Challenging my thinking

The moment the plane landed I turned off airplane mode and saw that he had messaged me. For every second of that three hour plane ride I was thinking and writing about him and us and our time together.

When I arrived at my airport hotel I called him. Seeing his face and hearing his voice soothed me. I didn’t realise I would feel like that. The call was short as he was visiting family but it was clear that we were both missing each other.

As promised, he called me later when he got home. He was different then, quieter. I know he was tired: we had ‘slept’ in the same bed the night before and we had been up early. He’s always quiet when he’s tired. But I also felt like there was something on his mind. If there was, he wouldn’t tell me no matter how much I asked.

He asked me to send all the photos and videos of my visit to him. He also asked me to send my writing.

A few days ago, he had come into the room to find me on my phone. He asked what I was doing and I had told him I was writing.

“Writing what?”

I told him that I was writing about my thinking.

“Have you always done that? From being a girl or just now?”

I explained that I have always written journals but that now I write on my phone. Telling him that I was writing about him probably wasn’t the best idea but he’s not stupid. What else would I be writing about?

“I want to see.”

Excuses can only last so long. Last night he wanted to see, so I showed him.

It was actually a letter to him, one that I never intended to send, but I’ve found an unsent letter is a good way of processing what you need to say to someone.

It contained how much I loved him, how happy he had made me, how grateful I was for the care and attention he had given me this week.

But it also expressed some of my fears and confusion: what did his parents know/think about us? What were we now? Why did he want me? How sacred I was of losing him, of him finding someone better.

He went through the letter and answered some of my questions. He said that he had told his parents that I was visiting because we may have a serious relationship and that I was coming alone so it was safer if I stayed with him. I hadn’t realised that he had actually verbalised the seriousness of us but I should have done. He’s told me enough times about his culture. I said to him that he hadn’t told me what he’d said to his parents. He reminded me that I hadn’t asked.

The rest of my ‘questions/concerns’ frustrated him a little. One of the things I really love about him, is the way he challenges what I think. Instead of just saying it, he makes me think about it myself and find my own answer:

“so, why do you want me?”

“Why are you asking me that – the letter is about how you feel, not me?”

“Just answer the question. Why do you want me?”

“Because I love you.”

“Good. Why do you love me?”

It doesn’t matter that I’m frowning at him now, and complain that he already knows, it was in my letter. I have to answer:

“I love you because you make me happy. You care for me, and look after me and make me laugh and make me feel important. You’re a good man.”

“OK, so why do you think I want you?”

Sheepishly. “Because you love me.”

“Because I love you. So why are you asking this question… ‘I don’t know why he wants me?'” He pauses. “And how do you know I love you?”

Even more sheepishly: “Because you care for me and look after me and want me to be happy.”

“Good. So where is the problem?”

“There isn’t one.”

He tells me that he is not frightened about losing me because he has done nothing wrong for me to want to leave. He is being the best he can be, so why would he lose me? Only if he does something wrong will he worry about that. And if I find someone else? That is my choice and there is nothing he can do about that. All he can do is care for me and love me and be the best he can be.

I sit there, looking at him, listening to him, and I feel so stupid. Stupid for worrying and over thinking. I tell him that the letter was never meant for him to see, that it was just my thinking. But he says he doesn’t understand why I think that way. Did he not show me he cared and loved me this week? Actions speaking louder than words, perhaps.

I can’t help it at this point, I start to cry. I cry because at that moment, I need his hugs and his kisses more than ever. I cry because I am stupid and my fears and insecurities are going to chase him away. I cry because I love him and miss him and am so lucky he found me.

He tells me not to cry, that he doesn’t like it when I cry…why am I crying?

When I tell him it is because I miss him, because I’ve been lying on this hotel bed expecting him to walk through the door, just like he did at his home.

He tells me not to cry. We will be together one day. And that he told me it will be hard and that I need to be strong.

The call ends with us telling each other that we love each other and by sending kisses over the phone, just like we have done for four months now.

I love those kisses. But I love the real ones even more.