B came over to my house to print something. On her way she called and described her situation. She said, “Your printer prints smaller, and these words are already small so I need to check it still comes out legibly on your printer.”
I said with skepticism, “What do you mean it prints smaller?” I knew you can always click “print full size” and it shouldn’t be a problem.
She went on to describe how it doesn’t print to the edge and leaves a white space around it. Oh, I see; you’re thinking it would shrink it to fit it onto the margins and you want to see if it would shrink to small.
That was enough to allay my obsessing for the moment but I found myself obsessing angrily about it, saying to myself, “She thought that shrinking it by a couple centimeters would make it less legible? Does she not understand you can press “print 100%” and not have to worry about that?
I went to pick her up outside my apartment downstairs and she started to say go to your left, no right, wait… and then just said walk around the corner. I didn’t know which corner she meant. I could go left or right. I walked around the closest one, assuming that was what she meant and I was looking for her car parking. “I’m right in front of you. Look straight, R!” Eventually I saw her walking toward me and our tension was mostly dispelled. As we got to the top of the elevator I had started to make silly jokes to match her sort of simple humor (which is honestly the best I can do for humor as well.)
It was sweet. I gave her some of the Indian food I had just picked up because she hand’t eaten all day. She loved it. We got the flyers printed. I had to pick my head between some shelves to reach the printer (because I had to take my shelves out of my closet while we paint it and put in a clothes rod.) And I joked about her wanting to touch my butt when it was vulnerable.
She certainly did. I liked it. I said you can touch between my legs if you want and she did that too. I like that even as innocent and religious that she is, she doesn’t shy away from sexual things. I’m so grateful she doesn’t appear to bring any baggage in that category.
But my roommate came in and B told him a story of how she felt so crazy when she had gotten upset at me for getting sprinkles on the ice cream I had brought to her last weekend. (she’s told that story on at least 3 different occasions) But the way she said it seemed so unaware of how minute it really was. She kept on saying, “I was being a total crazy person.”
And of course I mentioned under my breath how it didn’t make her the crazy one at all, considering I was triggered over more irrational things.
My roommate mentioned some Spanish poetry and we asked him to read some.
I think she kind of has a crush, or at least a great respect for my roommate. She just lights up and almost performs for him when she’s talking to him. He thinks she’s really great too. He’s been one of my biggest proponents to marry her. He’s gay however, so luckily it doesn’t make things weird.
But part of the reason I think maybe she has a crush on him is that after his extremely good reading, in Spanish, of a sad love poem, she got all touchy with me. I think it may have turned her on a little and she focused that energy on me.
I’m totally okay with that. That’s normal in relationships. We’ll interact with people that we feel attracted to, or turned on by. And I think she did the right thing. We just refocus that energy on our partner.
Oh and it was sweet that evening. We turned off the lights in my room (my door has mirrored glass looking into it) and kissed with much vigor. Things that if the glass wasn’t properly mirroring, would be quite inappropriate for them to see.
But during that time, I was still feeling the discomfort and dislike of her. The naivety and unawareness she had of social things. She seems so simple to me.
But as I laid with her, I was able to hold her and kiss her and look her in the eyes (maybe not as much as on a good day). But it is this thought I’m getting comfortable with: I don’t like everything about her, but she is mine and I am hers. She is the one I choose to love, warts and all.
And with that idea you can look more fully in the eyes of someone that is bothersome, even in that moment.