To the Men I’ve Loved but Never Told

One of my favorite posts on here remains "To the men in my life I never hooked up with."  But, there's a particular subgroup within that broader umbrella who require a different letter.  These are the very few men in my life whom I’ve loved but never had the opportunity to tell.

Hmmm... “Love” is an admittedly strong word… but English is a fickle language that provides us with dozens of synonyms for “disappointed” and very few words dealing with affections that surpass the level of attraction or lust and fall short of true romantic love.  (How is it that we only have “love” and “like” for a set of emotions that are so complex that even the ancient Greeks knew we had at least four versions?)

And, well, "opportunity" might also be the wrong word, what English word means "I’ve never had the courage and the opportunity and the relevant knowledge simultaneously in order to make speaking up on this issue an appropriate one." 

I would like at this time to propose two new words for the English language:

Halflove: a sensation of feeling of attraction that is more than just a crush but less than romantic love.  This choice is inspired by the Danish counting system, which is based in part around the number 20 so that ‘50’ (halvtreds) roughly means halfway to the third twenty, while ‘70’ is halfway to the fourth twenty (halvfjerds). Halflove… when I’ve resisted the potential of falling in love but a not quite able to box you into the friend-zone no matter how much I want to...

Couroppledge: the simultaneous existence of opportunity, knowledge, and courage.

With that, I’ll attempt to begin again:

Thankfully, there are not many men I’ve halfloved with whom I did not also have the couroppledge to discuss it with.  I owe that reality in part toVL.

But, unfortunately, there are still a few such men.  

My continued (direct) silence is inevitably the result of circumstances largely beyond my control. I might have met you when I knew I wasn't ready for something serious, but I probably met you shortly before a scheduled international trip; or perhaps you live(d) far away; or maybe you dated / got engaged to / married someone else during the relevant period of time. 

Then again, if there had truly been a “relevant period of time,” I would have ‘fessed up by now. It’s somehow much easier to discuss feelings that have passed than it is to be honest about those we are still experiencing. 

So my continued (direct) silence is probably because circumstances haven’t changed, meaning there are even fewer men to whom this is directed, and I’m just going to hope that the plethora of men in my life means none of them are confident enough to realize this is for them because... Well, the first thing I want to say to you is that I don’t want you to read this.  I don’t want you find out this way.  I know I’m taking a huge risk by posting this on my blog, but I mostly just need to say this to the universe rather than to you.  For you, I’m happy to remain silent.  The circumstances as they are mean that silence is perhaps the greatest gift to you. And perhaps your greatest gift to me could be to stop reading this if you think this is about you?  (It's probably not... just because you were married / engaged / dating when we met, or we met shortly before an international trip, or you live(d) far away does not mean this is about you...)

I probably haven’t been a very good friend to you, and you have, inevitably, given me more than I deserve. I am truly sorry for this. I want to be a better friend; I just don’t know if I’m capable in the current situation.  I don’t want to hurt you, or to make things awkward between us, and I’m afraid that most of what I say and do secretly conveys I halflove you.  I have tried to act cool and friendly, striking a tone that comes so easily in so many other circumstances, but I can’t.  

So we don’t have many inside jokes (if any), I probably don’t bake you birthday cakes, and I doubt I’ve ever walked side by side hugging you, kissed your forehead, or told you I love you as I would if you were simply my friend. I may even go for a while without emailing or messaging. It's not because I don't want to, but rather because I do but I'm afraid that if I do, I will forever alter who we are to one another.  And right now, we have a friendship I value (otherwise none of this would be that difficult).

The other thing you should know is that I’m working on this. I know I've been unfair and I don’t want to be unkind.  So I’m going to make a conscious effort at being a better friend.

This could be a disaster.  You should know that because I do.  I know that relationships are best when both parties are their natural selves.  And the thing is, I really like my natural self.  I just don’t know how to let that person come out when we’re together … at least without compromising the totality of the relationship.

And that’s pretty awful because I’ve loved getting to know you and wish you could know me in the same way.  You remain an ideal – the human manifestation of those sighs I release at the end of every good chick flick.  I don’t fall in love (or even halflove) with guys in movies – at least not since I was about 8 and realized it was weird that Prince Charming loves Cinderella despite her not saying more than 2 sentences.  And those sentences were “I’m sorry!  I have to go!” What is that?  It’s so weird that that’s what we teach our daughters.

So, when I watch Hollywood love stories, I’m never left at the end thinking, “Oh if only I could meet someone like…”  I’m instead thinking, “Oh, I wish I met something I could click with like…  Except I’d really want them to be…”  That second sentence could end a lot of different ways, but it usually relates to passions in life.  Part of what I’m hoping to find in a partner is someone who is as passionate about life as I am, and in ways that I relate to.  And someone I just click with – with whom I don’t have to explain every part of myself or defend each of my beliefs.  Someone I could just be myself with.

You were that person.  Before I got weird and unable to be myself, at least.

That’s the thing… if you think back through our history, you’ll notice there’s a difference.  I was once fun, laughed easily, and was probably more affectionate with you.  It was when I realized you were both something I had been waiting for and something I simply couldn’t have, that’s when I got weird.  Again, I'm sorry about that.

I've mourned our missed relationship almost as much as I've mourned actual relationships. Knowing you as I do, I have confidence that we would have had a real partnership of equals.  It's not that I actually think you're perfect... I'm sorry, I don't.  (I do realize I've said "I'm sorry" approximately 600 times in this post, so I'll stop now.)  I have seen you when you've been disagreeable.  Not to go all Charles Dickens on you, but our friendship really has endured the best of times and the worst of times.  But your 'disagreeable' is something I'd enjoy working with. I think I'd have enjoyed the frustrating parts of relationships with you.  

For example, I have no idea if you actually want to have children, or if your current answer would be the same if things were different between us.  But I think I'd enjoy making that decision with you.  And while I have my ideal wedding planned in my head, I would have been interested in seeing which compromises you'd demand. (By the way, I feel it necessary to point out that my ideal wedding isn't something I planned when I was 8. I did plan an ideal wedding when I was 8 but my ideal has shifted and evolved probably 100 times since then and the most recent iteration is only about 2 months old. So, I'm crazy but not that crazy.)

Realizing how both working and fighting with you would have fed my soul has led me into mourning at times.  In fact, it's part of why I'm writing this now - so I can move past a temporary moment of mourning for something I never even had. 

Because I'm a half-glass-full kind of gal, there is one final thing I must say: you give me hope that there’s another like you out there somewhere. And hopefully this time he won’t be living on the other side of the world, showing up in my life just a few weeks before I leave, and/or married, engaged, or in a serious commitment.