68. Crazy for you

 

I remember when, I remember when I lost my mind
There was something so pleasant about that place
Even your emotions had an echo in so much space

Gnarls Barkley, Crazy

 

CRAZY

My skills as a writer are not great. I struggle often in my attempts to express the nuances of the stories I tell on this blog. I’ve also come to realise my judgement about what is or isn’t appropriate material to share with the blogosphere is sometimes lacking and so I frequently worry that I say too much. Often, though, upon reading back over past posts, I realise that in fact, I have said too little.
Trawling through all those posts, I feel a sense of failure at my inability to truly capture the essence of this love. The darker elements – rooted in the somewhat twisted nature of both our strange pasts – I have particularly failed to convey.

Some of the reason for this is that many of these elements are of an intimate nature and not fit subject matter for a forum such as this. I’m aware that statement potentially makes us sound like a pair of sexual deviants but rest assured we are not perverts, just two battered souls looking to deconstruct the injuries of our pasts.

Both of us suffer from abandonment issues related to our fathers. Both of us grew up in emotionally abusive environments. Such upbringings inevitably leave scars and we each carry plenty of those. Part of what we recognised in each other in those heady, early days was the familiar patina of those scars.

I don’t mean to imply here that it is only this shared darkness which brought us together. Rather, it is our tolerance of, and empathy for, the other’s quirks – derived from that darkness – which binds us so deeply.

Empathy is the core requirement of any lasting relationship. To look into your love’s eyes and discern the pain behind the smile is not simply a gift but a necessity. Without that, you are useless to them in this world.

Love making without empathy is a grim and mechanical affair. Both tactile and emotional feedback must pass constantly between lovers for the act to have any real meaning.

This is precisely why narcissists are so lousy in bed, all they think about are their own needs. The fact that there is another person, another collection of needs and desires, present barely impinges on their consciousness.

Perhaps one day, Jersey girl will write a post about what that’s like for the other person. I’ve heard all the stories from her marriage and they are pretty horrendous. They do, however, serve as powerful cautionary tales for the unwary.

Clearly, lack of empathy has not been an issue in this relationship. Both of us can read each other like two chapters from the same well-thumbed book. Neither of us can keep anything from the other. One look invariably tells all.

For some, this would be too intense a situation to tolerate. Many people need to keep their secrets, even from their partners, but not so with Jersey and I. We have always craved this level of intimacy and intensity. What some would label ‘dramatic’ we call magnetic.

Intensity is food to us; the deepest intimacy our oxygen. That’s just the way we’re built. That’s why it took us both so long to find this. Most people would get one whiff of a love this crazy and bolt for the door. It is definitely not for everyone, and yet, here I am plastering it unashamedly across the web.

That said, here you are reading it.

And because you and others are taking the time to read our story, I intend to continue to do my best to tell it honestly and in as interesting a fashion as my meagre skills will allow.

 

Words and image are my own.

©2016

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