In 12 years of marriage, he’s never looked at me that way before.
I’m not going to go into extraordinary detail here, but we were horizontal and that’s when I saw his face. His eyes were gentle and dark and they never stopped looking at mine. His face was calm and relaxed.
Look, my dad writes for a living – I don’t – I can’t describe his face. But he’s never looked at me the way he did last night. Like he was admiring me. Like he was in awe of… something. I don’t know.
It made zero sense. We’ve clearly been here before. In that very position, literally hundreds of times. After 12 years, you’ve seen my face before. You’ve seen my body. You’ve seen them change – for better or worse.
What the fuck are you glaring at?!
I actually got uncomfortable. I had to close my eyes and focus on the task at hand. There was stuff that needed accomplishing if we were ever going to get some sleep.
Why was that the first place I went? Why couldn’t I enjoy the adoration and, what looked like, love that was going on there? I’m fucking broken, y’all. Bro. Ken.
When it was over, I asked him what that was all about. ‘Cause I’ve never seen that face before and I just spent 30 minutes watching it out of the corner of my eye and it started to wig me the fuck out. I saw what looked like pure, unadulterated, unequivocal love.
I didn’t get that look on our wedding day.
I didn’t get that look when I told him I was carrying his child. Why did I get it right then? While we’re going at it like rabbits? What the what? What gives?
He tells me he doesn’t say it enough. That he loves me more than life. That I’m gorgeous. That he truly appreciates me and he’s sorry for not saying it more.
And everything else in the world disappeared, if just for those few brief moments. Everything I thought I was, who I thought the world needed me to be, how I thought it saw me and everything else that fell in between just melted away. All I gave a damn about right then was being in his arms, breathing his air – his scent, for as long as I could. Everything in my life feels like it’s so wildly out of control right now. But this.
Him. Him and I. Us. The only solid ground I’ve ever had.
It’s hard for someone who’s learned to trust no one to open their eyes and be loved. He’s the only person I trust – but I still can’t look him in the eyes. Not like that.
The eyes are a scary fucking place, y’all. Have you ever seen a textbook antisocial personality disorder? I have. I’ve worked with them before – all ages – and the one thing they all have in common is empty eyes. It’s like pools of black ink with nothing in them. No spark, no light. I don’t look in people’s eyes much anymore unless I have to. I know – it’s considered rude and people consider you untrustworthy if you don’t, but I’ve seen scary things in people’s eyes. I don’t like the emotional vampirism that comes with eye contact.
So I closed my eyes and felt him love me. I love him more than life – the same as he loves me. I just watch him sleep; there’s no pressure there.