A few weeks ago, I pulled this paragraph at a friend’s request and because it turned out not to be strictly true:
“And I had such an epiphany a little while ago when he posted a beautiful poem about his wife. I guess I thought I might be jealous, but I read it anyway. And a little latch-box opened in my heart and the sun shined out. I was/am genuinely happy that he’s in his real life, loving and loved and writing hot poems for her.”
I’m unredacting it today because, although the situation turned out (heartbreakingly) to not have been as poly as I’d assumed (This grrrl will never again forget what my 10th grade math teacher said about assuming.), the step my heart took was real. My heart really did unlatch. I really felt that generous and expansive, and I felt that way because I was, in that moment, secure that I was loved by him.
I would like, please, to wait significantly less than 11 years to feel that feeling again and on the up-and-up.