I almost got married once. I got to the engagement part before I panicked and realized it was not going to work. I didn't feel like a whole person with him. I remember getting to the gaijin house (it was never home) after work and going downstairs to the communal living room. My friend Greg, the Canadian manga artist, was there drinking screwdrivers. He offered me one and asked me questions about myself: what was I doing in Japan and what did I want from the experience? I rattled off my story about how my fiance had always wanted to live in Japan and we were going to be there for five years. Greg stopped me in midsentence. He said that if he had wanted to know about what my fiance wanted, he would have asked him. He was asking me. What did I want?
I froze up. I couldn't answer. I had no idea.
I started crying and had to leave to hide the tears. I had no idea what I wanted. I had no idea why I was in Japan, other than that I had agreed to go because that's where my fiance was going.
I had always thought that I loved him. I now know I didn't. I never had.
I have had other relationships and told men that I loved them. Now I wonder whether I did.
What I feel with Jeff is huge and scary. The biggest difference is that he doesn't fill up the empty spaces in me. He is himself and has his world; I am myself and have my world. It's like a Venn diagram with big circles for both of us and our love is the overlapping part.
I suppose a person can fall in love as many times as necessary, and for me, it's really been just once.
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