We were both in Eastern countries, yet 8,300.5 kilometers was the distance between us.
He wanted a love that transcended time, space and distance, and he wasn’t afraid to let me know.
I, on the other hand, thought he was just bluffing. I knew what it took to be apart. If you could multiply love by distance, then it was safe to say I had been in a 10,364.7km relationship, most of my life.
‘What is your love language?’ I asked.
I wanted to be sure it wasn’t a language that adored physical touch or presence. I had to know it was a love built on affirmation.
‘It doesn’t matter one bit. I love you. That’s all that matters.’
So I wrote down all my fears. I bared my soul. I proclaimed my weakness. I showed him the secret passage around the high walls I had built.
‘I just want to warn you, I am pretty temperamental. I am a drama queen. You wouldn’t understand my sarcasms. You wouldn’t know how to be attentive towards me. In summary, I am a handful.”
I couldn’t see him and he didn’t write the usual ‘Lol’, but I’m sure he smiled. The sheepish one I had always visualized whenever he laughed over the phone.
‘And I love a handful. Your handful.’
With that statement, my walls fell down, just halfway through letting him through the back door and I whispered to him in the darkness, in that dusty and forgotten path that led to my heart, ‘You don’t have to sneak in anymore. You have breached the walls.’
Each day he questioned me, asked me if I had doubts. If I knew what I was doing by learning to love him through the distance.
Little did I know he was trying to clear his.
I am obsessed with you. I love you so much. You make me smile.
They all sounded really cliche. But that was exactly how I felt about him and I said that all the time just to clear his doubts.
Two weeks down the line, he got tired of my temperament. He stopped watching my drama. My jokes weren’t funny to him. His attention deviated.
And he judged me for being a handful.
‘Let’s just be friends’, he said, ‘We’re better off that way.’
He had seek out my consent to start a relationship with him. But when he ended it, he took the decision all on his own. He blamed it on his mental health and peace of mind. He wasn’t ready for a relationship and it would seem to him that I wasn’t too.
I listened and accepted every decision he took on my behalf.
I wanted to hate him, so that my walls of defense were built faster. I couldn’t. I still haven’t learned that I am not capable of hate.
So when he asked me, ‘Do you think we could ever date each other again?’
I said to him, ‘My eyes are blurry and my heart is in pain. I can’t give a logical answer now. But who am I to question destiny? If you’re my final destination, so be it.’
All along, I thought I was going to be the one to hurt him because he was so vulnerable and I didn’t love him enough and I warned him several times that I was going to hurt him.
I thought wrong.
He was a wall breaker and I wrapped a wrecking ball as a gift to him.
Henceforth, no matter what life has destined for me, I pray the Lord doesn’t give me a love I can’t hold in my hands.