It was the Tuesday before Thanksgiving. I went on bumble for the first time in a few days, prepared to do my usual sweep of deleting all the likes.
And at the top of my feed was a man with a smile that really fucked me up.
I’ll call him Mr. Smile.
Every single one of his photos was of him smiling really big. This person was interested in joy and making more of it with his own expression of joy.
I wanted to be around this person.
So I matched with him and said, “Oh my god. Your smile. You fucked me up with that smile.”
I had to run to an appointment, so I took a risk and called him for a quick vibe check.
I already knew, seconds into our conversation, this was a guy I wanted to keep talking to.
But then he told me that he actually doesn’t live in the area and that he was in town visiting his family. I was like, what the fuck.
(Note to self: Especially during the holidays, be extra vigilant about where they actually live because people be visiting and swiping for fun, and I ain’t about that shit.)
But this was my problem because I was the one who was so fucked up by his smile that I did not pay attention to where he lived. The profile tells you at the bottom where they live, but by the time I had scrolled to the bottom of his profile, I was so sold that I did not even look.
So I told him something like: I like you, but you don’t live here, so like, I don’t know, man.
He said that he was going out with his family that evening, so we could potentially meet if things worked out. But no pressure on anybody.
But by the time he got home late that night, we had exchanged enough excitement via text that I was not gonna be able to fall sleep without at least seeing him once. So I drove half an hour in the rain to see him.
It was magical seeing his smile in person. His voice, his body, and his presence added even more depth and texture to the delight I experienced from the smile in his photos.
When he asked questions, I could feel his genuine curiosity with every fiber of my body.
When he laughed, I could feel his appreciation for my quirkiness as we inched closer to each other in our seats.
When I ran my fingers through his face and hair, I could feel the way he received my touch with profound sincerity.
The way he saw me made me want to be closer to him and see more of him. I could feel a cloud of obsession growing in the background.
But after a good night’s sleep, that cloud calmed down a bit as I reminded myself that he doesn’t live in the area and that he did not entirely identify as non-monogamous. (It’s just easier to date people who are already non-monogamous because you are on the same page about a lot of logistical and substantive matters in building a relationship.)
I told myself, “Get a grip, Angela. That was fun, but it’s not going anywhere.”
But of course, the heart dare not be suppressed.
I was supposed to have a date that evening with another dude, and there was a part of me that wanted that date to be so good that it could make it easier to forget about Mr. Smile.
But it was not a good date. It was a one-dimensional drag, and I was bored out of my mind.
As I was driving home, I couldn’t ignore the urge to call Mr. Smile and see what he was up to. He was a couple hours away, and even if he was able to get home soon, he wasn’t sure at first whether it would make sense to meet because it was getting late.
But I focused on my congruence and told him what was on my mind. I said I wanted to see him.
After a few exchanges, he said he wanted to see me, too.
So I fixed up my Google Maps and met with him. The sexual tension was so palpable, and we were aching to get out of the bar and find a space to get our hands all over each other.
As I later told him, that whole night, it didn’t feel like just sex. It felt like we were making love. In between the sexy times, we talked about whatever came up in my mind. You know I like my congruence. You know I like saying what’s on my mind.
But as we were growing closer and sharing more intimate moments, I felt myself becoming scared.
“Wow, the kind of love he is able to offer me is so rare. What if I lose it?”
And then I went into a strange protective mode. I watched myself becoming less congruent. I watched myself getting quiet. Asking myself, should I say this? What if he doesn’t like this about me? What if I lose him?
So when I learned in the morning, while I was still in bed with Mr. Smile, that Dan had texted me about an issue back home that was making me anxious, I initially did not share it with Mr. Smile. I thought to myself, what if that’s too much baggage? What if he thinks it’s too much?
There was a part of me that fought the idea that I could actually be loved along with my baggage and blemishes.
When I shared this with Mr. Smile, he said, “Well, I am glad you told me. Part of loving you means loving all of you, right?”
I melted. He was raising the standard for the kind of connections I sought, and I told him as much.
But instead of feeling reassured by his words, I went into even MORE of a protective mode where I was even more afraid to lose the kind of love he was offering me.
I found myself wanting to hide more of me and wanting more of his attention and validation. I felt myself becoming more transactional. When we talked on the phone, I was focused on seeing him. I kept telling myself to shut up so that I can hear him and hold space for him. So that he would feel compelled to love me more.
That backfired. I thought, “He’s so smart, he probably can tell that I am holding back. He probably doesn’t like me anymore.”
I manufactured a certainty in my mind that he was never gonna love me the way I wanted to be loved…even though he was doing exactly that at the moment.
I was trying to escape the moment because I refused to accept the reality that I was getting what I wanted. I was so hell bent on the idea that I did not deserve this.
As fucked up as this was, it was also not a surprise. I had been doing this with Dan throughout our entire marriage. I would often doubt his love because it just felt too good. I was in the habit of always waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Anyway, I was so overcome with the possibility of losing Mr. Smile that by the time Friday rolled around, I had exhausted myself.
But I was glad to feel exhausted. I was willing to feel the roller coaster of emotions: frustration, regret, pain, exhaustion, anxiety, and fear. I was willing to feel all of it if it meant that I could be closer to him.
And that is when it hit me. That is what love is.
The excitement and nervousness themselves are not what love is. The excitement and nervousness are here as signals for danger ahead. It’s telling me that I’ve detected someone or something that I feel so uniquely drawn to that if I want to sustain it, I will have to put in a lot of work for it. And of course, there is risk of heartbreak.
The decision here was whether I was willing to take that risk, and the answer was yes.
But even after I had made that decision, I was gonna experience another set of emotions that I would have to decide whether I want to feel them. And it would be the same question: Am I willing to feel these emotions to share my humanity with this person?
The decision to say yes over and over again is what I find to be the practice of love.
So far, I was willing to say yes. Yes to the exhaustion, the regret, the anxiety, the fear.
If it meant that I could be close to him.
As I kept deciding to say yes, I watched myself falling for him.
For the next couple of days, I let myself enjoy that shared humanity with him. As I wanted, I got to see more of him. I got to see him in his own space. His natural daily rhythm. The way he was at home.
I got to see him as a whole human being.
That is when it hit me: the whole time I was anxious about losing him, I was not seeing him as a whole human being. I was seeing him as a means to get what I wanted, which was to prove to myself that I was capable of being loved. I was trying to silence the part of me that fought the reality that I was being loved the way I wanted.
That was why I was afraid of “losing” him. The reason I even entertained the idea that I could “lose” him was that I saw him as an object that I could possess. Something that I could lose.
But when I saw him as a human being, he was no longer an object that I could have or not have. He was a person with his own agency and sovereignty to make his own decisions. There was nothing I could do, no amount of hiding or holding space I could do, to exert any power over his decisions.
I was powerless in the face of his own agency.
Which meant that all that was left to do was to relate to him at the human level. That there were endless things to learn and know about each other without making any of it mean anything about ourselves.
I felt more free to be more of who I was and express what felt real to me. I no longer felt the need for attention and validation from him and more of a desire to simply see how we would show up in each other’s lives after this.
So I told him I had no expectations. Even if I never saw him again, I would remain content that I got to witness his humanity to the extent that I could.
I’ll be honest - this was not the first time I told him I had no expectations. I had said this to him a few times before because I wanted it to be true, but I found myself craving his attention and wanting to be even closer to him. But this time, because I got to see him as a whole human being, it was the first time I actually meant it.
This meant that loving him became much easier. I no longer had to feel so much anxiety to resist and say yes to despite the resistance. There was just more space for delight in any opportunity to experience him in the ways he wanted to be experienced. There was more capacity for heart break and disappointment because even if he did not want to see me, I would feel more strongly about the opportunity honor his own agency.
And in my ability to love him more deeply, I fell for myself more deeply, too.
I became more curious about what I wanted.
I built greater capacity for any confusion or uncertainty I experienced.
I gave myself more permission to feel like I deserved any love I received.
I found it easier to say yes to the uncomfortable human emotions I experienced because that meant that I was getting more opportunities to witness myself just as I was.
So I found myself feeling grounded and joyful on my way back home while carrying the uncertainty of what was going to happen next in our relationship. The future felt less uncertain and more fun at the prospect of experiencing the unexpected.
I felt prepared at the cellular level.
And in that sense of certainty in my ability to handle whatever came next, I began to wonder how I was going to experience love next. Wondering how I was going to relate to new connections. Wondering about my friends’ perspectives and how they would relate to me. Wondering how I was going to sustain my existing connections.
I found myself requiring less from others to provide certainty for me.
And then I fell in love with myself even more in that sense of wonder.
I guess I was able to prove to myself that falling in love is actually easier than I thought and pretty damn enchanting after all.