WordsPosted: January 16, 2016
He likes words.
He likes to tell Her in notes, in posts, in person how He feels about Her. His professions come without expectation. He knows Her by now and knows it is hard for Her to express Her feelings in words.
At first it was hard for Him. Not having the words. But over time He realized with Her, this is better. She gives Him something better than words.
Words, even in love, can become reflexive. Automated. Leaving a mouth without a thought, without intent. “I love you, too” becomes as automated as the “fine” when someone asks how we are.
When She says “I love you” it is always with thought, with emotion, with intent. And She does tell Him, often enough for Him and His fragile ego. He knows She loves him.
But She constantly, each time they are together, gives Him far more.
She shares Her love in ways He had never experienced, never even imagined. The way She strokes His chest as He holds her. The way She reaches for His hand as they walk. The way She wraps Her feet around His in bed.
She gives Him love in Her concern for Him. She had told Him in one of their first conversations: “I’m selfish.” And, to an extent, She is. But not with Him. She wants Him to be happy. Content. She is thoughtful in the most unpredictable ways.
She allows Him to see Her. Be “in” Her life, not just orbiting. Not feeling “invaded” when He cared about Her dog. Allowing Him to do the mundane with Her. Cleaning house for company. Redoing the deck. Trimming trees. Sanding furniture to be painted.
This weekend, they were taking a break.
They had been together most nights for months. This weekend they both felt it was time for some alone time. She is an introvert who needed quiet. He needed time as well, though not the way She does.
Tonight He missed Her. He wanted Her to tell Him once again She loved Him.
But He didn’t want Her to use words.