Keys to the Temple

My good friend Mad Scientist wrote a love letter to her husband for Valentines Day that may be among the most simple and touching things I have ever read. Maybe it's because I know her so well that I found it so moving. I know that she's a lot like me: tough on the outside but a big, sentimental mess of weak and easily-wounded softness underneath. And despite her gallant exterior, thinks twice (or thrice) beore letting individuals probe into the nether reions of her emotional insides.

She and I are different in a lot of ways too. For example, she's much more disciplined, focused, and when provoked, has a tongue sharper than Ginzu knife. I am a classic procrastinator, stare dreamy-eyed and wistful at he computer screen for hours on a regular basis, and when faced with confrontation my mind goes blank and my reservoir of witty retorts evaporates faster than sweat in the Sahara at high noon. In my most flustered and insecure moments I would kill for her powers of sure, swift, and eloquent oral persuasion.

But I like to think that while her shell may be titanium to my lead (read: good for keeping out pesky inquiring x-rays, but little use for deflecting sharp, pointy objects) deep down we're kindred spirits. So when I read her words of affection for her beloved it struck similar chords in my own heart and reminded me of how love drives me, propels me forward, and or better or for worse shapes me heart-and-soul. It made me think about what love means to me and and inspired me to write my own love letter.

It reminded me of how utterly lost I feel without love. How much of it there is inside me. And how desperately I have longed to bestow it on another human male. It made me realize that throughout all my past relationships - all the ridiculous, immature, and utterly desperate behavior I exibited all-too-frequently was nothing other than a manifestation of this immovable fact: I need someone to love. Someone to let me love them. Someone who wants me to love them - needs me to love them.

All my craziness was not about me needing to be loved by someone else - though receiving love is certainly the natural and desirable extension of giving it. But there is a subtle and important difference between craving love from someone else, and desiring them to crave it from you. Hoping that another person would find your presence and contribution to the world so rich and fulfilling that without you in it, all that's left is a dark, airless void. That your love is the light, and the warmth, and the music - and the life-giving breath that fills the lungs.

I suppose that sounds overly dramatic. My X -husband certainly never understood it. I tried to describe it to him once - what I wanted - what I hoped for -- how I wished he felt. The look of exasperation on his face was heartbreaking. He told me I was vain and selfish. He thought I wanted doting and ooohhing and aweing over my amazingness. He called me shallow for what he saw as needing someone to fall all over me to feel loved.

He just didn't get it. I didn't want any of that. I didn't want any outward display of love per se . I simply wanted him to have the deep, inward desire that I would love him that way - in a way that made his whole world shift.

I don't beleive that just anybody shifts your world. These are not small shoes to fill. In my darkest moments I was tempted to accept the fact that maybe the best I would ever do was capture the modest affections of a good man. I'm glad I didn't listen to that devil on my shoulder. It's one of those rare instances when I am rather proud of my obstinance, and my stubborn refusual to give into reason. My inability to accept the ordinary because its more probable than its precious and rare extrordinary cousin.

I'm no gambler --in Las Vegas, I don't even play the slot machines. But when it comes to love I have bet over and over again, and every time I lost I refused to walk away, certain that one day the big payout would be mine.

Dear Doctor, I think I've finally hit the jackpot.

I know that I can be weak, selfish and petty. I know that I am always running late, and take on more than I can handle. I second-guess myself, I hide my insecurities, and sometimes I'm afraid to just put myself out there and be who I really am. Sometimes I cry at completely inappropriate times. And other times I don't cry at all, even when my heart swells with uncontainable emotion. I avoid confrontation even when it's to my detriment. I know I'm always trying to be glue, even when acetone is called for. I can get defensive. I'm stubborn. I find it hardest to be honest with myself. And yet you seem to love me anyway.

Sometimes I look into your eyes and I just ache with joy and happiness and wonderment that we found each other. I am filled with so much gratitude for the chance to know and love the amazing person who is staring back, who is loving me with every breath, and every compliment and every criticism. Who is asking me to love him in the best way I can. Loving my imperfections and flaws. Healing my wounds. Uncoveirng my scars and finding the beauty behind them.

I think back on myself - on the sad, lonely and broken woman that I was. So ready to give up on happiness and a shared life purpose. When I conjure up that pain I am overcome by the way you washed it away and allowed me to start fresh . I want you to know me. See me. Reach down into the deepest, most intimate and secret parts of me. I'm willing to let you push me to places that make me uncomfortable - because I want to let you in. I want be a better person for you.

You make me happy in the smallest of moments. Sometimes I catch myself daydreaming about the small of your back, or the tip of your nose, the way it feels when you sneak up behind me, wrap your arms around my waist and kiss the back of my neck. I secretly watch you with your daughters and derive little bits of pleasure every time you soften in response to their irrisitable charms, or hold them tenderly in your arms. I could hope for nothing better than to build a family and a home with you, where our children will grow up under the umbrella of our mutual respect and admiration. Where they will have a foundation of trust and honesty on which to build a framework for their own healthy relationships.

My deepest desire is to give back all you have given to me, and then some. To make you feel loved and desired and needed. To show you that you are the most important thing in the world to me - and without you I'd be adrift in a sea of lonliness. My greatest fear is that I will fail. That I will disappoint you. That I will let you down. And every time I think I fall short of your expectations I feel a pang of guilt, sadness, and shame.

You once said to me that falling in love with me as like hearing music for the first time - and you didn't know what you would do if it went away. I don't know that a more beautiful thing has been said to me -- ever. It may be presumptuous to expect that these words might touch you in the same way, but I can't help but try. You deserve the deepest, greatest gift I have to offer, and so I present you with these sentiments. They are my soft and vilnerable insides. My inner dog rolling over and exposing his belly in submission. The keys to the temple of my heart.