Of Landlords and Love Lives

      On my way home from work this Wednesday, Carrefour sack brimming over with groceries, I was marching down the rue du Bac when I ran across my landlord. He promptly asked me about an electrical issue I'd been having and mentioned that he'd stop by again to take care of it. Out of the blue added:

      ¨Your chéri must be gentil.¨ Gentil meaning a hard-to-translate, special French brand mixture of nice, kind, and sweet.

      ¨Why?¨ Perplexed, I asked.

      ¨Because that smile looks good on you,¨ he stated, swiftly turned the corner, and vanished.

*  *  * 

        France is the kind of country you can have discussions with your landlord about your love life. This landlord likes to ask, not in a pesky way, but in that curious, paternal ¨you are a good looking foreign girl with near impeccable French, how have you not been swept up by a Frenchman yet?¨ sort of manner.

        He knew about FWB, not in all the grim details, but in the basic contours of how that went, and every now and then, convinced the FWB would figure out his mistake and return to me, would ask me about him.

        When I stopped into his shop several weeks ago, he naturally asked about the Baron and to which I happily replied that there was someone new. He then lovingly dispatched a list of advice, which included:

          1) Take it slow, there is no rush, see where it goes
          2) do not ever become super close to the mother of your boyfriend, as French mothers are potential relationship wreckers; achieve this by always vous-voying the parents of said boyfriend.
          3) if down the road you get invited to a weekly family lunch on Sundays or what have you, say that you are miraculously and unfortunately always ¨busy from 12pm to 9pm on Sundays on a permanent basis.¨

         He then shared with me that when he flew to Réunion with his now wife to meet her parents, he wasn't paying attention and was so nervous that, suitcase in hand and stepping forward to shake hands with his future father-in-law, he walked straight into the pool.

          He ended his words of wisdom with one piece of advice that I am holding at the top of my thoughts as much as I can: that while men and women are truly from different planets, what can and does mess up a relationship are not the true workings of said relationship, but how we think, in our own little heads, what skewed visions we have, about the workings of the relationship and the other person.

           I am tremendously guilty of this.

*  *  * 

           This Thing I have with This One is a slow, steady burn. Not combustible, not explosive, not dramatic. I like it this way. But I know that deep down in my gut I am guilty of gargantuan fear, the type of fear that comes with knowing that what you have is good--quite good--and the fear of losing that, of having it dematerialize right before your very eyes.

           Aptly, This One and I were sitting in the Tuileries yesterday discussing fear when he stole one of my own life philosophies right out of my very mind. He said that we should do things that scare us as often as possible because it is only then that we are living.

           There is a sort of complicity between our visions of life, a fellow nerdiness between us that makes me smile and laugh, but also, in all honesty, makes me go OH SHIT. 

           Oh SHIT because the more I learn about him and the more I glimpse his values and his personality, the more I see compatibilities between us. And this time I am not blinded by Charlotte York style infatuation.

           Naturally, this makes me want to dive for cover and put on the iron shield of armor to protect my vulnerabilities. So I go into EJECT mode.

            EJECT mode is sabotage mode. It's the mode where I try to find any and everything to hit the breaks and hit the eject button, try to find anything wrong so I can exit This Thing fast and save my heart from any potential heartbreak.

             For example, a week ago, I was overwrought because This One had said he was quite busy during the week working on a consulting contract and had some stuff with friends and wouldn't be able to see me during the week. Then once during the week he mentioned he didn't know when he'd be able to see me again the next week. He then dropped a bit off the face of the planet, but justly so....the deal he's working on is rather of the life changing scale.

              Again, quite naturally, I went to the dark side and started going to the dark place of ¨ok, well if you don't have time to spend with me, why the HELL are you dating me?¨ I texted him later that week and told him that I wanted to talk. He said he'd call that night. He didn't call. I texted and said if he tried to call I'd be out with friends to dinner and that if he wanted to see me during the weekend he'd need to tell me or I'd make plans. He told me to save Saturday afternoon.

               Saturday afternoon, he showed up to my place looking like bloody hell. Hadn't slept, hadn't eaten, been so worked up over his contract that he'd not taken care of himself all week. Looked like he was about to keel over.

               It was then that I realized that dropping off the face of the planet had nothing to do with me and everything to do with his anxiety and his way of coping. He elaborated upon this. I told him why I was frustrated and explained my logic of ¨if you don't have time, why date me?¨ and he apologized and hugged me. He said that it was just how he handles things and I told him ¨thats fine, but I don't know you well enough yet to know that. Now I do.¨ He then planted a set of kisses on my forehead and asked me to forgive him and said that he knew he shouldn't cut me off completely because I'm his 'lady', even if he is under duress.

              So in the blink of a two minute span I went from thinking I'd have to end it with him because he didn't have the time for a girlfriend to cuddling and giving him a head massage and telling him he could nap on my shoulder if he needed to sleep and it was ok if we didn't do anything else because he needed to rest.

                Oh lord, my mental Eject Button at its finest trying to sabotage the shit out of everything as a protective mechanism as per usual. There are beasts in my head to be reckoned with.

*  *  * 

                 At least through the small hiccups we have had, our communication is good. We're very open and to the point with one another. And it makes me feel like the bond we are growing is something worthwhile.

                 Very, very worthwhile.

                 I'll post about him and it when I find it appropriate, but I again admit that there is something special about this one, and I'd like to keep a lot of it to myself for now, and perhaps indefinitely, but when the need to philosophically muse about it strikes me, I will.

                 Know that I'm happy and at peace and all is well.

                On a final note, what he doesn't know and what I've been dying to tell him is this:

                I feel like I'm on one truly kick-ass super team whenever we're together.

                And I can truly smile about that.