Confidence/Four

[This is the fourth installment on the theme of confidence. Stay with me; the story will unfold into some pleasant surprises.] 

Dear friends,

"Where do we go from here?" Paul asked me.

"I don't know," I said. I wanted to hear what he had to say, plus I was still digesting the last 14 hours. (I'm slow like that.)

"You will be back in two months, right?"

"Yes."

"Well, I would like to take you out to lunch then and, in the meantime, we can talk on the phone."

"I'd like that."

Paul hugged me goodbye. My heart felt blitzed with hope.

******

Two months later, I found myself again walking next to Paul in Seattle. The air was warm and the sun kissed the top of our heads. This time, we were walking in a neighborhood dotted with mansions.

"What would you do if you lived in one of these houses?" Paul asks.

"I wouldn't live in it," I said. "I prefer a tiny house. Why, what would you do?"

"I'd live in it," he deadpanned.

I laughed.

I realized I missed this; I missed him. But the mood was remarkably different compared to our rendezvous two months ago. It probably had something to do with the fact that I had hardly heard from him since July.

He began.

"So, this is what happened. Summer came, I got busy, and I let things slip by the wayside. I have also figured out that I neither want to nor should be in a relationship right now."

That was quick and direct, I thought to myself. It felt good to know.

"Thank you for telling me," I responded. "That's all I wanted to know."

I turned to look at Paul.

"I mean, you never followed through! You never communicated with me! And that was hurtful."

"I know," Paul said. "You shouldn't have to come all the way to Seattle to hear this. I should have communicated with you, and I take full responsibility."

Paul went on to share more of his life with me: why he knows he can't be in a relationship, what he's struggling with, how he's coping. I agreed with his decision not to be in a relationship. I also knew that I couldn't be in a relationship with someone who is at the place he is in.

We walked steadily side-by-side. I felt equally disappointed, sad, relieved, and...free. Specifically, I felt free to share with him the following:

"Paul, can I tell you something?"

"Anything."

"The time we shared together - that was real. So, thank you for having a profound impact on my life."

"Would you care to elaborate?" Paul asked.

"Sure." I paused for a few moments. I listened to our soles hitting the pavement. "You don't know this, but I had this crazy month last March and, among other things, one of the things that happened was that I essentially got a marriage proposal. By the end of the month, not only did I know that I didn't want that, but I also knew that I didn't want to be in a relationship. I knew so because I wanted a Togo sofa more than a relationship."

"A what?" Paul asked.

"A Togo sofa. You should see this sofa! They have a showroom in Seattle. It's so beautiful and ergonomic and - "

"- A couch?!"

We laughed.

"No, but really," I said, "the sofa is just a symbol of my independence. I knew that my main priority was to become healthy, start working, and get an apartment, so I had pretty much put dating out of my mind, which I was happy with.

"And then I met you. I don't think I have ever enjoyed myself with anyone as much as I did with you. You were different. And for the first time in my life, I wanted to spend time with someone - with you."

"Wow, thank you," Paul responded. "I could reciprocate, but what I would say would pale in comparison."

"Would you please go ahead and try?" I encouraged him.

"Thank you for giving me the permission to ask you out; I had never asked out a girl before. And thank you for saying yes."

I smiled.

"It was easy to say yes. Thank you for asking."

A little while later, as we stood in front of Mike and Kristin's apartment, Paul hugged me goodbye again. My heart still felt blitzed with hope.

******

There are no chance meetings, no flukes, no coincidences. Every page in my story holds meaning. Sometimes I will grasp the meaning, sometimes I will not. But this I do know: I have never felt confident - or free - enough to tell a man what I had just told Paul. To tell him how he hurt me, to tell him how he added to my life, to laugh with him despite the painful conversation we were having - I know that didn't happen during my last break-up.

More confidence is becoming.

A.