Saturday, December 11, 2010

I like to make her cry

It sounds pretty mean, doesn't it? I mean, you all probably know who she is, as I mention her often enough. Simply putting "her" in the post title made you all think "Becky." And the fact that I like to make her cry...Well, that doesn't sound like the nice guy so many people have come to know and love, does it?

The thing is that I don't make her upset. When she starts crying in the way that I like, it's because she's shedding "happy tears." And since you're all curious about how I do it, I'll tell you.

As you all know by now, I'm not made of money. If I had spare money to give, it would go toward spoiling Becky, (as well as helping my friend Julie). I can't afford to give Becky materialistic things to show her that I love her, and...Well, let's face a certain fact here. Saying "I love you" often loses that certain something along the way. The first time it's said, it's scary and exciting. Once it's been accepted, it's just thrilling to hear it. Eventually, we grow complacent in hearing the words. They're expected and seem to have infinitely less impact. Somewhere along the way, we sometimes lose the "I," and the phrase becomes a quick, "Love you."

This needs just a bit more before I tell you how I bring Becky to tears. Since Becky has moved, our ability to talk on Skype has been diminished. Our combined connection is so bad that if we bring up video, the two of us are either frozen images or colorful smudges on one another's screens. Thus, Becky loses out on the meaningful look I sometimes give when I say, "I love you." I haven't asked if she notices, but I also change my tone of voice. We could be acting goofy, or even just sound distracted. But as I walk off to refresh my diet root beer of the like, I pause and say those three magical words as clearly as I can.

So here I am, feeling like "I love you" isn't enough, and unable to have roses delivered, or buy her jewels, or even just stacks of books that she would enjoy. Living over 1,000 miles apart at the moment makes taking her out to dinner a bit of a problem, as well. I'm left with only one recourse: write her a letter.

According to my records, there have been three such letters, not including the novel that she considers a love note unto itself. Each of these writing is filled with my purest thoughts; all of my fears and desires hit the page, as I explain all that is roaming my heart and mind. The thing is, looking over those notes, I don't simply fill them with compliments. I manage to speak honestly about the flaws we both have. (And believe me when I say that I have quite a few more than her.) I write about my dreams and fears. In several pages, I convey to her so much more than three words can on their own, and I do it with tender honesty.

Each time she's received such a letter, the response has been the same. Becky starts to cry, and says, "Just when I think I can't love you more, you go ahead and prove me wrong." Hers are tears of joy; she can't believe that she's finally found someone not only accepting of her, as past boyfriends weren't, but also encouraging her dreams. I mean, she's wanted to become a nurse for some time but her last boyfriend not only made it difficult, but made no effort to help her achieve her goals. In fact, he was quite detrimental to said goals. And here I am, reminding her that she is not only loved, but that I will fight to see that she is successful in her desires.

I might as well throw in an example of what I sent her recently. Mind you, you don't get the whole letter, as that's between Becky and me.

I know you doubt it, but you are quite strong, Rebecca [last name]. It shines when you take risks in your life to see your imagined future become a reality. It practically explodes in everyone's face when you choose to fight for that which you want most. I want to inspire your strength the way you inspire me.

Mind you, these letters also tend to lead to a most common argument, if "argument" is what you could really call it. It's a contest as to which one of us was the lucky one. She thinks she's lucky for having found someone as open and loving as I am. I think I'm lucky for discovering someone so sweet and accepting. Honestly, I wouldn't mind having that particular argument until we're old and gray.

There's never any real intent to make Becky cry. That's simply the result of me touching her heart the way I do when I set my mind to writing her these occasional love letters. From my mouth to G-d's ears, these should be the worst of the tears that ever fall from her eyes. Tears of joy.

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