The Case of the Too Similar.
Did you ever wonder, he said, why we didn't become a couple?
No, not really. I replied.
Sometimes I do, he said. Why didn't we?
I dunno. We were at different places, I guess.
Really? You think?
I don't know! I've never thought about it. Haha.
I haven't really thought about it. Not four years ago. Not even a few weeks ago after he brought up the subject. I didn't think about it until recently when I was driving and the traffic light turned red and there was nothing good on the radio. I thought about it as I tapped my fingers and looked at the passing cars and waited for the traffic light to change again.
We liked the same movies, liked the same food, read similar books and discussed anything and everything he could think of. Once, we went to an art gallery together and we liked and disliked the same paintings. In movies, this would have been the montage where we're smiling and laughing with a background music playing.
But that was the problem. We were too similar. Even when we were discussing something, I can't remember ever being on the opposing side. We agreed--and we agreed on a lot of things. On the surface and on paper, we would look like the perfect match, but internally we were repelling each other, as though we could only thrive if there were some distance between us. None of the intimacies of a relationship.
I considered the idea that maybe we were similar on things that didn't matter, but vastly different on the things that did. But instead I realized something else, at least on my part. It wasn't that our core values were different (I'm not even sure if I have core values) but that he represented the things that, at that time, I was running away from. That was mid-2008 and I was just a little bit out of the dark. I had stopped smoking (cigarettes and weed) and I had lay low on drinking. He was an atheist and while I wouldn't go as far as classify myself as one, it was hard to have faith when heaven was silent. No prayers were answered, no manna came down from heaven. Instead, it rained shit. I was slowly rebuilding my life and there he was all ready and open to try everything that I already did.
It wasn't a difference at all. It was like looking at a mirror and being reminded of the part of me that I had left behind. He was the person that I used to be and didn't want to be anymore.
No, not really. I replied.
Sometimes I do, he said. Why didn't we?
I dunno. We were at different places, I guess.
Really? You think?
I don't know! I've never thought about it. Haha.
I haven't really thought about it. Not four years ago. Not even a few weeks ago after he brought up the subject. I didn't think about it until recently when I was driving and the traffic light turned red and there was nothing good on the radio. I thought about it as I tapped my fingers and looked at the passing cars and waited for the traffic light to change again.
We liked the same movies, liked the same food, read similar books and discussed anything and everything he could think of. Once, we went to an art gallery together and we liked and disliked the same paintings. In movies, this would have been the montage where we're smiling and laughing with a background music playing.
But that was the problem. We were too similar. Even when we were discussing something, I can't remember ever being on the opposing side. We agreed--and we agreed on a lot of things. On the surface and on paper, we would look like the perfect match, but internally we were repelling each other, as though we could only thrive if there were some distance between us. None of the intimacies of a relationship.
I considered the idea that maybe we were similar on things that didn't matter, but vastly different on the things that did. But instead I realized something else, at least on my part. It wasn't that our core values were different (I'm not even sure if I have core values) but that he represented the things that, at that time, I was running away from. That was mid-2008 and I was just a little bit out of the dark. I had stopped smoking (cigarettes and weed) and I had lay low on drinking. He was an atheist and while I wouldn't go as far as classify myself as one, it was hard to have faith when heaven was silent. No prayers were answered, no manna came down from heaven. Instead, it rained shit. I was slowly rebuilding my life and there he was all ready and open to try everything that I already did.
It wasn't a difference at all. It was like looking at a mirror and being reminded of the part of me that I had left behind. He was the person that I used to be and didn't want to be anymore.
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