** He emailed me back first, honest!**
Oh, Ian... you are so good and kind, considerate - you have no idea how much that still amazes me. I always denied that side of me because I thought it was wrong and it was weak and I always pushed (ate) it away. I spent my life with people who were like me because I knew how to deal with them, but you were so different. I just could not understand you or the way that you demonstrated your compassion for others. Your way of showing someone that you cared was to be kind and try to help but my way was to stand in the background and let them work it out alone - not because I didn't care but because I didn't know any other way. I thought that loving you meant believing in you, standing behind you and supporting you but somehow the way I expressed it came across as the exact opposite. Remember in the beginning? We had such a good time and I fell for you hard and fast. I have always been a firm believer in the theory that if it seems too good to be true it probably is, so, I didn't think that you really loved me - I was a replacement for Lynda (I didn't enjoy learning how right I was in that assessment) - but, at the time, it only made it easier for me to be with you. I loved you so much and I was excited by the prospect of spending my life with you, but loving someone in my world meant bickering and solitude; I had never experienced nor witnessed anything different than that. In the early days I could not even open up enough to reach out for you in the night, your deep hugs when we would stand in the kitchen made me uncomfortable (ask Stacey - she told me I was weird) and, for some unknown reason, I always seemed to try to make you go away. I pushed and pushed but you didn't push back and I didn't know how to deal with that. To me not pushing meant that you didn't care enough to ask me to stay. I always left because not leaving meant getting in deeper and letting you see the part of me that was weak and stupid and afraid (and let me point out that being weak and stupid and afraid isn't what I thought I was, this is what I KNEW without a single doubt). Remember how hard I cried as I packed my things and you sat on the couch ignoring me? Those were not the tears of someone who wanted to leave, those were the tears of someone who did not feel wanted. But I left and I figured some stuff out, mainly that the only place I wanted to be was in your arms, even if that meant showing the things that I hated so much. I tried to be kind and thoughtful and more open when we started seeing each other again, although I felt that you never really did quite buy into the nice-girl-act. I never once looked at the plentyoffish site to see if you were still going on there, you told me that you wouldn't and that was enough - the old me would have looked, and worse. After we had what I can only describe as that serious lack of communication when we were skiing that day, I called to talk about it but you were abrupt and quiet; you didn't call me again. I figured it was over at that point but I hoped it wasn't. And one day I innocently went on the plentyoffish site, only because I wanted to do that stupid personality quiz again to see if the new me had better results (honest to my god) and the first thing I saw was your profile. That's what happens when you let someone in. And I left again, and I figured some more stuff out. In Bev years, that was a long time ago. I know now that the things I feel on the inside are okay - the things that I have always tried to suppress are the best part of me, I am good and working on a change was long overdue (regrettably, I seem to keep volunteering you to help me practice). More than anything, Ian, I think that knowing you has affected my life more positively than anything ever has, and for that I will always be grateful.
Shit, I hate this blubbering nice stuff... nice weather, huh? Yes, that is better...
