I have been asking myself this question lately: "Have I truly learned anything?"
The reason for the query deals with the only two men I have given myself to emotionally. One was my husband of forty years, whom I divorced three years ago. I believed him to be the love of my life, but, for years, didn't feel he loved me as much as I loved him. We had a different language of love.
My family, not being a family of means, hugged...a lot! Not too much kissing, but
hugging, holding, touching. My former husband's family was not big on the touchy-
feely thing...they were gift givers. I can hear some of you saying, "And your problem
was what, exactly?"
My former husband could not tell me he loved me. Could not say those three words. It was so impossible for him that - on our 30th wedding anniversary - he gave me three beautiful diamonds (gift givers, remember?) and a note that said with those three stones, he would never have to say those three words I longed to hear. And, by God, he didn't.
It seemed funny at the time.
As it turned out, he did love me...probably much more than I loved him. The way he demonstrated that didn't feel like love to me...I thought the package of love would be wrapped up so differently - and I was 21 when we got married - so I didn't recognize it for what it was. He must have felt so unappreciated or misunderstood; it was so obvious to him that what he was giving me was how he was telling me of his love. Even in the most intimate of moments, I would tell him I loved him...nothing. I resented this, quite frankly. It took all the joy out of speaking the feelings I had for him and eventually those feelings were gone as well.
The second man I have loved is younger and I became involved with him two years ago. We were friends initially, but became physical partners. The sex was the kind I had dreamed of all my life and that probably intensified my feelings for him. Our bodies fit so perfectly together.
Even though I knew there was no future together, I was so saddened by the thought of never having that kind of physical relationship with another man that I would become sad even though we were seeing each other all the time.
I told him I loved him, have several times. He told me he loved me, but not the
marrying kind of love. I accept that because I know there are many different types of
love, I can't image getting married again and my desire to be with him was enormous.
Never doubt the power of good sex! But even though I wanted to tell him I loved him,
and he liked hearing it, it felt much like my marriage: me saying the words, getting
nothing back.
This second relationship has ended. I can not tell you the depth of my sadness, my sense of loss
and my heartache. So why am I writing about this?
In both cases, I have loved men who were emotionally unavailable to me...a husband who loved me,
but couldn't speak the words and a sexual partner who loved me, but not enough to say the words.
The similarities are so obvious to me. I pick men with whom I can't have what I say I want.
An unrelated conversation the day after things ended, centered around someone placing
"value" on the very dysfunctional memes that create so much unhappiness and chaos in that person's
life. It was as though I had been struck in the face.
The question I should be asking is not "Have I truly learned anything?" but rather "Do I value not feeling loved?"
If I place value in not being loved and the misery it can cause me - for whatever reason...the reasons are not a part of this discussion -
then I will continually try to create relationships that replicate this thing I have placed in such high regard.
While this is profoundly unsettling to me, perhaps the fact that the question has been rephrased, shines a
a brighter light on the heart of the matter and will allow me to break the cycle.
