The way we talk
I spent my senior year of high school skipping class to go body surfing with a red-headed rodeo boy who worked at the gym where I taught swimming lessons. I had other boyfriends too, but I could never decide on which one to keep. Then I went to Germany and met a boy with long hair who rock climbed and had just finished a cycling tour of most of northern Europe. I fell in love, and spent a year with him there.
We had a lot of fun: I learned to rock climb, and road ride with him. We traveled a lot. But somehow we never could really talk—in spite of the fact that he was a dual German-US citizen and could speak English fluently. In fact, our communication, or lack of it had less to do with language and more to do with the fact that we didn’t have the same starting point. There was no overlap between us, so we were always hearing different things.
I read James Joyce and Jane Austin at the local library. He hated to read. I used words like etymology, nomenclature, and quintessential, and he’d give me blank looks, until I paraphrased. I was planning to go to college. He was planning not to. I wanted to have romance, he wanted to have sex.
Eventually I went to college and he kept rock climbing. I had a bunch of other men in my life then, some were sort of boyfriends, some just bed friends. And I spent a lot of money on phone calls. We tried to grow towards each other, to clarify things, to articulate something about the way our hearts moved, but everything we said clashed, and when he moved to the states I kept wanting him to read the damn poetry I wrote for him, and to respond. And he kept kicking my ass mountain biking and would leave me crying on trails I couldn’t ride.
So I rode Canada with a bunch of girls, from Massachusetts. And several hundred miles of road later, after swimming in Canadian lakes and fixing my own derailleur, I decided I didn’t need a man.
Then I met my husband. He was a total biking dork, who said he had his life all figured out. The first words I said to him were “nice bike,” the mountain biker’s equivalent of the “you had me at hello.”
We went downhill mountain biking the day after we met, and had an fantastic time: he let me ride his bike, and waited for me when I couldn’t keep up without making me feel small, and he rode my bike, and broke my wheel. But mostly, we talked. And we talked. And we listened. And we understood. And for the first time ever, I felt I’d found a man who wanted to share with me more than just his own ego, and who wanted to hear more than just ‘I love you.’ Which is what I told him two months later.
He was the first man, and the only man to whom I’ve ever said those words first. And so I married him.
Next week is his birthday. It will be the seventh birthday I will have spent with him, and I still can’t shake the feeling that I’ve hit the jack pot big time. We play together, run together, ride together and fight together. And when we talk together, we hear each other. We speak the same language, use the same metaphors. Which isn’t to say, communication is effortless, because it isn’t. There are plenty of days when our words tangle and the meaning is lost. But when we’re both trying, our words give our love wings. And that’s a damn fine thing.
The way I operate, My Notebook |9 Responses to “The way we talk”
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See, now I’M in love with him!
Love this post. It’s beautiful and articulates [blank stare from German fella] exactly what it is to fall in love with your true match.
Thanks for sharing this.
Heck YES.
oooh great post!!!
It sounds like you are very happy and in love with him. That is wonderful.
yes it’s true that i am moved very easily, so it’s not hard to understand why i sort of got a little misty when i read this.
while travelling this summer i felt a connection in Italy (similar to your german, but not exactly the same) and I wondered what life would be like if everything worked out, but it looks like that won’t happen. so i’ll just wait until i’m able to find the same happiness that you have.
happy early bday father-of-bean-and-wife-of-christina!
What a wonderful way to tell your husband you love him. It sounds like you’ve found the perfect match. Always remember how much you appreciated that early on, and you’ll stay happy together always!
Awww, that was just beautiful. It makes me feel all lucky and warm inside that I have a great husband, too. Do you ever sell any of your art? It’s amazing.
Fabulous art and a wonderful post… you are truly lucky to have found such a great match — please don’t ever take that for granted!!
Hi Christina,
I’m taking a little time to look around here…it’s early Sunday morning and I took “dog duty” - the empty nester’s version of getting up to change the baby or something - and now I have a little alone time while the man sleeps. What a real pleasure your writing is! This particular entry resonated with me because I know how it feels to find someone who has the same “starting point” and to realize as time goes on that I’ve “hit the jack pot big time.” It took me many many more years than I would have wanted, but it was worth the wait for our paths to cross. We’ve been together for six years now and each day I wonder at the treasure of this relationship…
This painting is so beautifully expressive of “love wings.” You seem to incorporate visual meatphors that are fresh but accessible in many of your paintings. For me, they make the already lovely experience of the colors and composition so rich and full of meaning. This one, of course, says a lot to me. I’m glad you found my blog so I could find yours. Take care and enjoy your big guy and little guy:>