Revelatory Gravity

I would rate my normal reflexes and agility as somewhere between feline and acrobatic (anyone who says otherwise is a liar or scoundrel, of course). Despite this obvious prowess, I’ve found myself literally falling off of everything recently. I’ve fallen off of beds, chairs, couches, and curbs. At first I thought this was some sort of weird full body version of being tongue-tied around a girl. But I’ve come to a conclusion after careful observation: L is pushing me off of the edge of any space we share.

I was surprised at first. She doesn’t need much physical space (“L sized sliver” is the phrase in current vogue), so it’s not like there’s not enough room for the both of us to sit or lay down. She just happens to push me off of whatever furniture or surface we share. As near as I can figure, it’s a consequence of trying to be near each other. When I’m on the edge and she tries to move close to me, she inadvertently pushes me off. And then she gets to reap the unintentional benefit by laughing at my misfortune. At first I was a bit put off by these proceedings, but it’s hard to be that annoyed honestly. I have a girlfriend that likes to be near me and a couch that apparently is not very deep. Oh, the horror.

This is just another one of those million little things that I wasn’t expecting about being in a relationship. Actually being in a relationship is pretty new to me. I’m not going to gush about her; that’s not what this is really about. (Except to say that a girlfriend that has serious considerations about how to repurpose the Care Bears to meet the sexual accessory distribution needs of today’s modern adults is one worth keeping around/an eye on) What’s been crazier about the whole thing has been what I’ve seen and learned about myself.

For years I’ve seen myself as the guardian of my own happiness. Enjoying a party, a book, a game; my happiness was the direct result of the actions I took. Recently, however, I’m finding that it’s possible to be happy by making someone else happy, without goal or ulterior motive. For example, the other day I made dinner and then cleaned up afterwards. This is not generally a fun process; cutting chicken, cooking rice, dicing vegetables and standing over the stove are not exactly fun time vacations. However, the smile when I was done and finally sat down made the whole damn process worth it.

Falling is the moment when you realize that your world is defined not entirely by your actions and your will, but by larger forces surrounding you. Much to my surprise, I find that my happiness isn’t just mine anymore. There are all sorts of downsides: I have less control over my life and time (I haven’t been free to play video games in a month), I have to listen to the acappella SpongeBob theme song, and despite decades of hiding myself, I now am vulnerable because someone knows me. At the same time, it’s an exhilarating feeling to be able to surrender some of that control and just enjoy the rush of excitement as I get to enjoy her company and the journey we share. And that’s what falling is: the thrill as you experience a profound lack of control.

Those of you seasoned relationship veterans are probably chuckling at me and my puppy-like naivety. “It’s in the honeymoon phase” or “wait and see” or an evil cackle are all things I’ve heard (and understand). And I’m not knocking that all this is true-invariably things worth having require work and effort and blood and sweat and tears. And I’m not claiming to know the future, its shape or form. But even those hardships do not detract from the lessons that larger forces out there shape us and our happiness in the world. That’s the biggest lesson any relationship can teach us. It’s why all the best descriptions of the process revolve around the word “falling”.

This post was my entry for the topic of “Falling” on the Synchronized Blogging Experiment. Look at them, they’re better.