M for My Everything

A mash of blogs about M I'd written but until now couldn't publish.

I can't go into the details of what I was going through or why I needed him more than I ever needed anyone, to start with but I can tell you, I've never known anyone else who loves as selflessly or as completely as he does.

Actually, now since I threw caution to the wind in my last post I guess I can! 

****** M is the man I dated post chemo, not the first but the second. He's who I was dating when I was undercover working for the D.A. I would knock on his door at three A.M. crying, shaking, desperately needing to not be alone after being in such horrific environments and dealing with the disturbing underbelly that comes from having a dark net.

When I started actually seeking out modeling gigs I was sending my photos to every craigslist ad and all other internet ads I could find online. That's how it happened.

I went to a beautiful restaurant to talk to a man about a job. That's when I learned it wasn't a normal job. I went home and made phone call after phone call looking for the right place because there was a dirty cop involved in the whole thing.

Then I went undercover. It was hell. I cried myself to sleep nearly every night having discovered the darkest side of human nature.

M, would watch me while I sat shaking and crying for hours, patiently waiting for the moment I was ready to be held and could be touched again. Then he would hold me, not saying anything. He became the air I breathed, the ground I walked on. He became my everything.

But it was bad. Even after the men were arrested, I couldn't deal with life. When he wasn't around busy with work or school I felt like I was dying. I felt like I was suffocating.

I broke up with him because I knew there was no other way for me to learn to stand on my own again. I'd never needed someone as much as I needed M. I wanted to curl into him and disappear from the ugliness of the world that was now so vivid. ******

NOW

Talking to him the other night because I was upset, he listened for hours while I droned on and on about anything and everything Then he said exactly what I needed to hear. From, "You don't know how to fail," to "So at thirty-nine?" When I talked about all the nonprofits I want to create.

I don't know what he sees in me, or how he tolerated watching every episode of "Golden Girls" with me, or why he would volunteer to watch "My Little Pony" with me now. I just know he was there for me the countless nights I woke up him at three in the morning, and when I was traumatized beyond what I could bear by things no one should ever experience and he was the constant source of strength in every storm.

I left him because it had gotten to the point I couldn't function without him. When he left just to go get a drink of water or grab something anxiety would take over.

Needing someone so much you feel like you can't live without them isn't love. It's desperation. M deserved more than my messed up crazy broken self. He still does. Just being my friend, he is the best friend I could ever ask for.

He knows I'm all sorts of insane right now and can't handle more than friendship. He supports me in everything I'm doing to get better. He never thinks of himself. He always thinks about what's best for me.

He put me above his grades at school, above the job he was working and in my life I had never been so needy.

He never complained. He accepted me as I was. He made certain I didn't fall down the stairs post chemo and stepped out of my life when I was engaged and had no contact with me through the course of my marriage. Yet he's never loved anyone else and it breaks my heart.

His love is something I don't deserve, but it's one of two things in the world I am completely dependent upon.

I hated needing someone so much who I will never deserve and M never asks for anything from me.

I don't know if I'm capable of ever being a woman worthy of him. I highly doubt it. I'm too vain, too selfish, too inconsiderate.

I wish I knew how to love like he does. I wish I could completely set aside my needs for someone else's but I don't know how to do that and I don't think it is something that can be learned.

THEN

***** It's three A.M. his roommates are asleep. Tears stream down my face. I tell myself to walk back down the stairs, to get in my car and go home but I can't I need him.

I send him a text. If he doesn't answer, I'll go. He has to wake up in a few hours. I hesitate. I shake and cry wishing I weren't such a weakling. Wishing I were strong again. I try to turn around but the feel of greedy hands lingers on my skin slimy and disturbing.

I text "I'm at your door." I press send. I wait. Anxiety builds. I feel like I'm vibrating out of my skin. Panic takes hold. My heart pounds until it hurts. "Answer please" my psyche begs. I stare at my phone needing it to light up and tell me he's awake.

Finally, it does. "Be right there." Three little words that mean the world to me. I hold my breath waiting for the door to open. I read his text again and again. The promise comforting.

The door opens. "Sorry," I say. He sees my tears and he wants to hold me. He knows I'm not ready yet. This isn't the first time. How he puts up with me I'll never know.

We quietly walk through his living room back to his room. I sit on the chair by his desk and he sits on his bed his hands held together as though to stop himself from touching me, to stop himself from wiping away my tears.

It kills him when I show up like this. It tears his soul, I can see it in his eyes. I start babbling about all the things that just happened, blubbering out every depressing soul twisting detail.

He listens, he nods, occasionally with his voice so exquisitely soft he says words, words of encouragement, words of comfort, whatever the words are that I need to soothe my soul and mend my bleeding heart.

When I finally stop crying and shaking and I start to feel human again and not like I'm something that's come out of the sewer, I say, "Okay, you can hold me now."

He gets a small smile and says, "Do you want to be held?"

And I do. I want him to hold me because he cares so much about what I want. He waits though and I come over to him and he puts his arms around me and I sink into his embrace.

It's the only place I feel safe, the only place where the world isn't ugly.

He puts the pieces back together time after time when I fall apart. ****

NOW

That was M, and he is that way even now.

You might be wondering why we aren't together despite his incredible kindness and patience with me.

It's because I still can't get over it. The association. He was the only good thing when I was living in hell but now when we talk or see each other, I still feel like the broken girl I was back then. I still get anxious when it's time to get off the phone and can't hang up I have to make him do it because I can't.

When I'm with him, I still feel like the rest of the world is full of ravenous wolves and all I want to do is hide from it.

I know if I were to let myself be with him it would be wonderful but I wouldn't have the motivation or drive to see the whole world or reach my dreams.

But every moment I give him makes him so happy. He's happy going with me to the eye doctor or grocery shopping, anything I do, he's there for me, happy and content just to be with me which is the greatest gift I've ever been given.


I wish everyone knew what it was like to be loved by M and if everyone could love the way M does, almost all the problems in the world would disappear.

M, though keeps to himself, he goes to work, and goes home, he likes to watch movies and tv, he goes to football games and sits on the bleachers.

He isn't someone you would notice immediately. He's a big guy and very round. He has eyes that like mine first appear brown but if you look closely are mostly gold and green.

When we're together just walking around town holding hands I hear the comments and see the looks. People think I'm a whore he pays to be with him.

They don't see he is the best man I've ever known, the best boyfriend (ugh I hate that word) any woman could ever imagine.

He is the man who over time becomes the most handsome man on earth to you because when you look at him all you see is the kindness in his eyes, you hear the softness in his voice, you feel the tenderness of his touch, and you know without a doubt you are safe, you are loved and you come first.

He is a walking breathing living miracle.

I wish I could be more like him. I wish I could listen the way he does. I wish I could be as accepting as he is. I wish I could get over the fears that drive me away from him and make him happy.

PTSD is the pits. Even when you love someone, it can stop you from being with that person.

But I have to admit, he deserves so much more than me. I'm thoughtless and inconsiderate and so maybe it's best he finds someone who can love as well as he does.

For now, I'm putting myself together and working towards my dreams and maybe someday when I'm more confident I'll be able to love someone and be loved back the same way as M showed me is possible.

M is the only man I've known to be the way he is. I joke with him he should give classes to the world on how to love, but he doesn't see how exquisite it is to be loved so endlessly, so selflessly.  He thinks he's just ordinary, but to me, he will always be supercalifragilisticexpialidociously extraordinary.