Shane
He is, without a doubt, the most intelligent person I know. It’s not just the trivial knowledge that would make him a star on jeopardy, but the background history that he has mastery over that gives conviction to his beliefs. He never went to college, had little use for high school but his repertoire isn’t just a recitation of book facts he’s picked up along the way, but a sense of real world application from experience. We might not agree on politics, but he’ll see where I come from and how my life differs from his and can support my perception. I have often said he is the character from which Matt Damon created “Will Hunting”. The comparison runs deep.
His childhood isn’t spoken of. Named for a father that deserted him, there is tragedy in the story that will not be told. He works with his ex step-father, sometimes even house sits for him, watches his dog, despite him being the second bad choice his mother made, the second one to walk out on them. He rarely speaks of his mother. He sees her, from what I can tell, a couple times a month and respects her as much as he knows how. He has tucked under the table the issues of her bad choices in men, men who taught him how not to be a father, but shares little to nothing of his own life with her. She has never set foot in his home. No one has.
There is little to nothing that defines his life. He is a hard worker, rarely taking a vacation day or a holiday, working up in the ranks into management at the company where he’s worked since high school. He takes his job seriously but recognizes its limitations. It is there to provide a roof over his head and little else. His friends, likewise are ones carried over from school. People with whom he has never aged. Nights of camping out in the woods with the intent to drink and play with fire carry the depth of his long-time relationships.
Deep in his heart he is a romantic. A man with hopes of holding his own child. But these words will never fall from his mouth. No one has shown him how, no one has shown the way through the fear, no one has demonstrated commitment. He knows no way except the wrong way and for that he refuses to move.
He has loved only two in his 35 years. The first, a high school sweetheart, a girl from a similar mold ended up the wife of another. The second, an ill-suited, polar opposite girl whom he never should have had reason to meet, is me.
We will never be a pair. His fears will keep him alone, his coping mechanisms with which he keeps the world at bay will always keep me outside looking in. I know better than to think a man will change. I might care, and care deeply, but only he can save himself.
He used to come over after LM had long been asleep, with Chinese food and a bottle of wine and a movie I never would have picked out myself. It was enough, for both of us, to have someone to sit next to. He smiles rarely, but when he does it will light up your heart. He laughs even less and yet it is with complete abandon. He has told me he loves me only once, in a moment I am certain he would take back if he could, only for the vulnerability those words can leave, and yet he could never say them again and I would know. He doesn’t love easily and he doesn’t love carelessly. His heart is so fragile, so raw, so desperately in need of affection but far too scared to reach out for it. I cradle it in my hands, always proving that I can hold it gently enough, that I won’t drop it or let go, that it can stay there as long as he wants it to without consequence. Love, after all, shouldn’t come with expectation.
Despite not speaking in nearly a year, not a week goes by that I don’t wonder how he is. It’s not unusual for such a silence, he has to walk away and readjust his heart, unfamiliar with someone whom he can choose to leave instead of the other way around. He doesn’t want to be close to someone, doesn’t want to feel what he feels, so I give him the time to get comfortable, never knowing if he’ll come back to the friendship or quit it for good.
He said hello last night. Just hello. (Don’t push, don’t ask too much of him upon his return and he might stay for awhile.) He was checking in, seeing if I was through with him, seeing if I would reaffirm his lack of worth and send him to the curb. He teases and flirts and tests the water and waits for me to slam the door. But I never do. The line has long since been drawn; our relationship long-ago defined as something other than a girl to take home for the night, he has come to care more than that would allow. He knows what can and cannot be; he’s not looking for me to abandon my principles and firmly held beliefs (he wouldn’t respect me if I did), he just wants to know if I still care without actually asking the question or letting on that it matters. But it does. And I do. I always tell him in extraordinarily clear terms exactly how much I care about him. He needs to hear it more than he needs water, and I recognize that I’m the one he needs it from the most. I am the one he trusts and respects and cares for deeply in return. It is the reason he returns each time. He is the sort of man you would never dream of hugging, the sort who scoffs at those who do, and yet, within your unrelenting, honest, sincere embrace, he will break down and relish the comfort of your arms.
After an hour of careful chit chat he asked shyly if he might come over, asked with trepidation and hesitation. I answered with equal pause. No, I said. Not yet, not now. He does not ask with purpose, a hand to hold and a heart to love is all he wants. It is not often that he sits in a silent room and simply breathes with another soul. But he will come and then he will go and it will all be on his terms for he knows no others. I do not expect nor want much from this man, but it takes such strength to love him, such patience and persistence and about when I start to see through the walls into the light of his soul, he will walk away again. And this, he knows, too.
I have always prayed that through our friendship, he might learn that love can be trusted. That he might begin to believe he is worthy and someday he might let in the woman who will show him through the fear into a life he is compatible with and he will feel safe to live his dreams. Maybe I am too ambitious. Maybe it is not my place. Maybe God doesn’t need me in the middle to show His love.
Or maybe,
I am the one who needs to learn.
When I come to find the refuge
In the easy silence that you make for me,
It’s okay when there’s nothing more to say to me,
In the peaceful quiet you create for me,
And the way you keep the world at bay for me,
The way you keep the world at bay.
- Dixie Chicks
His childhood isn’t spoken of. Named for a father that deserted him, there is tragedy in the story that will not be told. He works with his ex step-father, sometimes even house sits for him, watches his dog, despite him being the second bad choice his mother made, the second one to walk out on them. He rarely speaks of his mother. He sees her, from what I can tell, a couple times a month and respects her as much as he knows how. He has tucked under the table the issues of her bad choices in men, men who taught him how not to be a father, but shares little to nothing of his own life with her. She has never set foot in his home. No one has.
There is little to nothing that defines his life. He is a hard worker, rarely taking a vacation day or a holiday, working up in the ranks into management at the company where he’s worked since high school. He takes his job seriously but recognizes its limitations. It is there to provide a roof over his head and little else. His friends, likewise are ones carried over from school. People with whom he has never aged. Nights of camping out in the woods with the intent to drink and play with fire carry the depth of his long-time relationships.
Deep in his heart he is a romantic. A man with hopes of holding his own child. But these words will never fall from his mouth. No one has shown him how, no one has shown the way through the fear, no one has demonstrated commitment. He knows no way except the wrong way and for that he refuses to move.
He has loved only two in his 35 years. The first, a high school sweetheart, a girl from a similar mold ended up the wife of another. The second, an ill-suited, polar opposite girl whom he never should have had reason to meet, is me.
We will never be a pair. His fears will keep him alone, his coping mechanisms with which he keeps the world at bay will always keep me outside looking in. I know better than to think a man will change. I might care, and care deeply, but only he can save himself.
He used to come over after LM had long been asleep, with Chinese food and a bottle of wine and a movie I never would have picked out myself. It was enough, for both of us, to have someone to sit next to. He smiles rarely, but when he does it will light up your heart. He laughs even less and yet it is with complete abandon. He has told me he loves me only once, in a moment I am certain he would take back if he could, only for the vulnerability those words can leave, and yet he could never say them again and I would know. He doesn’t love easily and he doesn’t love carelessly. His heart is so fragile, so raw, so desperately in need of affection but far too scared to reach out for it. I cradle it in my hands, always proving that I can hold it gently enough, that I won’t drop it or let go, that it can stay there as long as he wants it to without consequence. Love, after all, shouldn’t come with expectation.
Despite not speaking in nearly a year, not a week goes by that I don’t wonder how he is. It’s not unusual for such a silence, he has to walk away and readjust his heart, unfamiliar with someone whom he can choose to leave instead of the other way around. He doesn’t want to be close to someone, doesn’t want to feel what he feels, so I give him the time to get comfortable, never knowing if he’ll come back to the friendship or quit it for good.
He said hello last night. Just hello. (Don’t push, don’t ask too much of him upon his return and he might stay for awhile.) He was checking in, seeing if I was through with him, seeing if I would reaffirm his lack of worth and send him to the curb. He teases and flirts and tests the water and waits for me to slam the door. But I never do. The line has long since been drawn; our relationship long-ago defined as something other than a girl to take home for the night, he has come to care more than that would allow. He knows what can and cannot be; he’s not looking for me to abandon my principles and firmly held beliefs (he wouldn’t respect me if I did), he just wants to know if I still care without actually asking the question or letting on that it matters. But it does. And I do. I always tell him in extraordinarily clear terms exactly how much I care about him. He needs to hear it more than he needs water, and I recognize that I’m the one he needs it from the most. I am the one he trusts and respects and cares for deeply in return. It is the reason he returns each time. He is the sort of man you would never dream of hugging, the sort who scoffs at those who do, and yet, within your unrelenting, honest, sincere embrace, he will break down and relish the comfort of your arms.
After an hour of careful chit chat he asked shyly if he might come over, asked with trepidation and hesitation. I answered with equal pause. No, I said. Not yet, not now. He does not ask with purpose, a hand to hold and a heart to love is all he wants. It is not often that he sits in a silent room and simply breathes with another soul. But he will come and then he will go and it will all be on his terms for he knows no others. I do not expect nor want much from this man, but it takes such strength to love him, such patience and persistence and about when I start to see through the walls into the light of his soul, he will walk away again. And this, he knows, too.
I have always prayed that through our friendship, he might learn that love can be trusted. That he might begin to believe he is worthy and someday he might let in the woman who will show him through the fear into a life he is compatible with and he will feel safe to live his dreams. Maybe I am too ambitious. Maybe it is not my place. Maybe God doesn’t need me in the middle to show His love.
Or maybe,
I am the one who needs to learn.
When I come to find the refuge
In the easy silence that you make for me,
It’s okay when there’s nothing more to say to me,
In the peaceful quiet you create for me,
And the way you keep the world at bay for me,
The way you keep the world at bay.
- Dixie Chicks
Comments
If it is, then I think you have much to learn, don't open yourself up to being hurt again.
You didn't sound harsh at all. And you are right, if that had been written in reference to "M" I should be smacked and all my dating privileges revoked!!
Thanks for your comments!