Tomorrow is nine years since JP died. And normally--as if any of the past nine years have seemed "normal"--but normally I would be in a state of advanced chronic depression by now.
I'm not, though--my meltdown the other day notwithstanding. In fact--I'm sorta okay, sorta, and just WORLDS better than I have been any other year since then.
A huge part of that can be attributed to LJ.
I've learned, in recent days of thinking, what it is that causes me my periodic bouts of discontent with him: he's not JP. That's it. The whole "problem", right there in a nutshell. (I'm the nut; that's my shell.)
Seriously. If I evaluate him on any OBJECTIVE level--how he treats me, how seriously he takes our relationship, his sense of responsibility toward this house and what goes on here--he's wonderful.
He's not affectionate at all, not the least bit "sensitive", and he has some grossly macho attitudes (the other night, LJ and Raj and I were watching an "Oz" rerun, with some homosexual overtones, and it was sad and hilarious at once to watch the squirmy machismo that immediately descended upon the living room. Thugs are so funny sometimes--I wanted to tell them "You know, 'gay' is not the worst thing that a person can be...") But here's the thing: his family, from what I gather, is dominated by the mother and financially-supported by the father. His father works every day and gives his mother a certain allowance, and in return, she runs the family. I never get the impression that there was any love there--he's talked several times about issues that imply they're only together for the sake of their economic arrangement. This is the environment in which LJ was raised--is it any surprise that affection and sensitivity are foreign to him? Or that he'd see his main responsibility toward his girlfriend not as "spend time with her" but as "bring home money for her"?
He does what he believes is the right thing to do, and he does it well. I've tried to tell him that I'd rather have his presence than his money--he doesn't quite believe that.
In the twenty months we've been together, he has told me he loves me exactly once. I used to be bothered by that, until I realized that his actions were quite sufficient to tell me that, if I ever needed to know.
He has been, as far as I know, scrupulously faithful to me. He may come home late every night--but every night, he comes home. He has never tried to hide from me that he has females among his circle of friends, but neither does he rub my nose in it the way CR used to do.
If I call him and tell him I'm having a rotten day, he won't comfort me and tell me everything's going to be fine--but more likely than not, he'll call back later and let me know he's on the way home, and by the way do I want him to bring me dinner?
He doesn't pay me compliments--but he brags on my cooking to his friends. And eats everything that comes off the stove, no matter how much of a failed experiment it is.
Did I mention that he's fine as hell?
JP was an affectionate, passionate, devoted, sensitive, creative guy--and we loved each other without restraint. Everything was all out in the open, no artifice, no misunderstandings, no room for anything to BE misunderstood. We lived together entirely without defenses, and it was something magical.
But I was 25 years old back then, and now I'm 34; wary, weary, still myself but carrying the weight of a few hard lessons. And my 34-year-old self--even though she still remembers what it was like to be 25 and to be in love the way I was with JP--my 34-year-old self is pretty happy with what I've got here, in this house, with LJ. It's not magical, exactly....but it's sustainable. After what I've been through in those intervening nine years, I'll accept "sustainable" and not complain.
Occasionally I find myself troubled by paradox: if JP had lived, I would now have everything I ever wanted--but if he HAD lived, I wouldn't have any of what I have now. The very things I most regret not being able to share with him are the same things I wouldn't have if he were still alive. We were good for each other's souls and hearts--but not necessarily good for each other's lives. And the more time passes, the more I understand that truth.
That doesn't make me miss him any less--but it does help me appreciate what I've got.
The problem with an un-emotional, reserved guy like LJ is that sometimes I want to tell him stuff that can't be said in an un-emotional, reserved kind of way. And so I can't tell him, for instance, that I'm glad I replied to his reply to my Yahoo ad, which I almost didn't because normally I like wordier guys and his note was only a couple of sentences....or that I feel very lucky to have him in my life.
So instead I'll fill the gas tank when it's not my turn, or make a pot roast for dinner, or stick a little note to the alarm panel--signed, as usual, with a little heart.
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