Don't say you love me

I don't need you to tell me that I'm courageous and beautiful and strong.

I already know.

The trouble was that you didn't want me whole.  You said you loved me, but you only wanted the parts that fit.  You wanted someone to talk to, someone to listen, someone to meet the needs your other relationship didn't.

I told you from the beginning that I was tearing out a part of myself for the sake of this feeling, that I wouldn't be able to sustain it forever.  You said you could not change.  You didn't know how.

I did what you couldn't.

Last week I told you I was falling apart.  I couldn't do it anymore.  You asked me what I wanted, you offered to compromise for the first time.  So I told you.  Now you were torn.  You needed time to think.

This week I asked you, what is on your mind?  You stalled.  You offered ifs and whens and years-from-nows.  I asked again.  You can't make that sacrifice for me.  You offered ... a time limit.  Another kind of limited, not-real relationship.

I could have what I needed from you, for two months.  Maybe more.  No.

Now, later, after I've had some time, that is tempting.

But that would still be a suppression of my self.

I ended it.  But I let you see how that hurt me.  You wanted to stay in my life, as a friend, as something.  You told me I was wonderful.

I don't need to hear that from you.  I can do what you can't.  I make sacrifices and I give my whole heart when I love someone.

You can't make sacrifices.  You never wanted a whole heart.  You don't know what that kind of love is.  You can say it.  But it's just another expression of affection.  You might as well be saying "I think you're lovely and want to spend time with you".  There is more to love.

One day, I might find that.  It won't be with you.

Between Night and Day

We met years ago when he looked after me for a few days as I recovered from a heat stroke at a Summer event.  We bonded and went to a Celtic music concert.  Later, we kept in touch and spent time together at the next year's Summer event.  That Fall, when I was having suicidal thoughts, he was the one I reached out to, who talked me through some of it.  This past Summer, at the same event, we fell in love.  We spent as many evenings as possible walking through the forest and the tent city just to get some time to talk alone.  We went to the same concert we'd been two the past two years.  We said "see you soon" instead of "goodbye".

I live in Boston with my cat and my roommates.  He lives in St. Louis with his other girlfriend.  I made the decision to give this a shot.  Knowing the distance, knowing that I was putting my own needs as a monoamouros person on hold for the sake of exploring something I haven't felt this strongly in a long time.  I had decided before we started dating that I would never ask him to change.  I told him from the beginning that I didn't know how long I could stand to put my values, preferences, needs aside.  He said that he loved me, and hoped it would work out.  He said that he's flattered that I would be happy with just him, but that he doesn't even know how to not be poly.  It was a given that if he'd asked me to be poly for him, I would have washed my hands of the whole thing.  Somehow, I came to him instead, and chose to compromise myself.
We text frequently and send emails.  Phone calls are weekly at best.  When I ask him what he wants out of our relationship, he can't answer me.  He barely knows what he wants for his own future.  He is working on moving to Connecticut (separating from his other girlfriend for a few months, until she moves as well), but the moving day was postponed due to work - he must stay in St. Louis until at least the 24th of October.  He'd been planning for the 15th.

Maybe it doesn't seem like much time, but 1,192 miles makes every day a little longer.

When I returned home from the Summer event, I had decided to continue my single and dating lifestyle.  I was not happy about it.  But it seemed unfair to myself to be exclusive to him if he could not do so for me.  There were a few of the usual failed dates and sweet men who wanted more than the friendship I could give them.

Then I was nearly dropped during a lift-dip at blues.  My dance partner suggested we practice the move and I agreed.  We met the next evening at my apartment, and the same day every week after that to practice dance moves, talk about philosophy, and watch YouTube videos.

Much like this, except where we may have whacked some other dancers.
Fixed it in practice.

One of these dance nights, I was upset over a drawn-out argument with my boyfriend, and my dance partner brought dinner with him.  I told him everything over dinner.  He commiserated, and said that he was disappointed; he was planning to ask me for a date that night.
We practiced our dance steps after dinner and I walked him down to let him out of the garage with his bicycle.  He paused and hugged me, and asked me out anyway.  I asked him if he was sure.  He was also monoamorous, and Roman Catholic to my practicing Pagan.  He was sure.  We went on our first date that Friday.  The next day I dropped everything and asked him to come out hiking with me.  We spent the whole afternoon walking and getting lost in the autumn woods.

Dogtown in Gloucester, MA

That was two weeks ago.  I've been seeing my dance partner steadily since then.  He says that he loves me, but doesn't want to call it a relationship because of the other man in St. Louis.  He talks about what he wants for his future; either to be a writer and die at thirty-five of excessive art, or to have seven children he can raise Catholic.

I'm musical, but not that musical.

I don't think he realizes how terrifying that second scenario sounds in a week-old relationship.
To a Pagan Feminist, with dreams of her own career, her own business, her own creations,  it is a grab-the-cat-and-run-for-the-hills signal.

Before we started seeing each other romantically, he seemed fine with my religion.  He has shared that the idea of witchcraft makes him nervous; but he is very respectful of me.  Lately, such as when he talks about his life, his religion, his future, I get the feeling he doesn't see my religion as a real thing.  But it's only been a week, and I haven't had the chance to address it with him specifically.

There's that darn "expectation vs. reality" again...

I've always had my own plans.  I don't know if I'll ever find a real partner for life and love.  What I want is to pursue my own goals, develop a steady enough income and lifestyle that I can adopt an older child, and perhaps go through one or two pregnancies at most, if I do find that partner.  The adoption I will go through with, whether I become a single parent or not.  It's been something I have wanted to do for my whole life.

I do not want a partner who tells me that I am enough for him, yet pursues other women for love and sex.

I do not want to be a stay-at-home mom worn out by too many pregnancies, whose children are raised with rigid religious ideas.

One seems to want too much of me.  The other does not want enough of me.

These issues may clear up with more communication.  But I can't shake the feeling that staying with either of them would be untrue to myself.  I am more unhappy with two men than I ever was single.  I think it is better to feel lonely for being alone rather than to feel lonely because those you love cannot love all of you.