Throughout my whole life, apart from when I was with Phil, the only love I’ve really known is one of wanting. It craves, it aches, it needs, it denies and it hurts. It is instant. It’s magnetic. It is hypnotic, irresistible, seductive, alluring. It’s addictive. It is dangerous. It’s all the love I’ve ever known.
And then there is Howie. Howie is none of those things. He is the calm. He’s the gentle, peaceful, caring, patient, understanding love. He’s the things I’ve always hoped for. And while every single day I can feel myself slowly bending to him, still the fight against is great. Still, my mind tricks me into believing that because there’s no instant, strong, magnetic, hypnotising pull that drags me under and swallows me whole in a flash of electricity so high a voltage it could set the world alight, that what Howie brings to my world is not enough. It fools me into thinking that I will be bored and will need more. That I should stick to the tumultuous, the dramatic and the painful.
But… there is something growing. As we continue to talk most days over text, a very slow flowering of something that could, with time, patience and an open, healing heart, become the one thing I’ve always dreamed of. A love I cannot describe because I don’t yet know the words.
My only obstacle – believing that my feelings aren’t the right kind of attraction. Believing that charm and addiction is love instead of trusting that peace and tenderness could be.