#15 | all-in
taking a partner home to your family is a very intimate act. some people are very hesitant to do it, partially because some families come with caveats and rules that people don't always trust others to respect. I've realized over time that having a family around which you can be totally relaxed is somewhat rare. I have a positive relationship with mine, so with both friends and partners, I've been very willing to bring people home. my family is great! I love my parents! come meet them, come get to know this very intimate part of my life. get to know where I come from, why I am the way I am, the people who taught me how to live.
a close friend of mine came to visit new york a few weeks ago and we met at a small wine bar to discuss my breakup. she and my ex had similar family dynamics growing up. while sipping on a glass of pinot noir, I said I felt devastated because I was 'all-in' on this one, and now that it reached its end, I was realizing that perhaps my ex was never mutually 'all-in' with me, and I wondered if her breaking up with me during her grief was had something to do with trauma causing a deep fear of vulnerability.
my friend said that it was possible. she related to my ex in the sense that she would actually never share all 100% of herself with another person. I was surprised. even when you've loved someone for decades, you wouldn't?
even then, she said. because if it fails, that's it. game over. there is no rebuilding. I would cease to exist. but if I set aside just a tiny shred of myself, I can always plant seeds and start anew.
that being said, she said that in her past long-term relationship, she was about "85-90% in," and her new relationship was at about 85%. she rebuilt herself at a fairly steady pace.
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I was thinking about my own dating history. I had never been in a long-term, committed relationship before this. the first person I ever dated as an adult was early on in college. he had a similar personality to mine: he was extremely open with his feelings and also had a positive relationship with his family, so although we only dated for a few months, he wanted me to meet his, and for him to meet mine. we had a very emotionally intimate bond, despite the brevity. it did mean that when we broke up due to his moving away, it left me pretty devastated and wandering for the better part of two years. I would say we were both all-in, as stupid as that was. and yes, it hurt, but I think that's partially because when I'm in love, I forget reality, and how unlikely it is to stay with someone forever.
isn't that what love is for, though? to forget the realities of the world and see everything with hope? I like to be all-in, as devastating as it is when someone rejects you after. I don't know another way to live. I cannot feel truly close to someone without being this way. I am constantly completely vulnerable, and then the people who listen and aren't scared away are the ones I love, as opposed to being guarded first and then eking out more vulnerability and love over time. and though it completely destroys me when love ends, I know that I can always, always persevere. even now. giving all of myself to someone doesn't mean they take it away when it's over. nobody can take me from me.
when I first began this relationship, although I was vulnerable with her, I was afraid and hesitant of commitment, partially because of how I'd felt after the end of my previous one. for a long time, I thought love wasn't real anymore, that it had died in my last relationship and I would never experience it again. but actually, that's how I felt right before I met the love before this, and the love before that. every love looks and feels different, and this one was patient and steady.
when we started dating, it took me longer than expected to say I loved her - about six months. we were watching a horror movie on the gray ikea couch of a random airbnb in a chicago basement. I'd had an edible and accidentally gotten so high that I was physically uncomfortable, so I peeled off my clothes to feel less constricted. the movie ended and we fell asleep. I woke up at 3 am, finally sober, and turned to her. I realized how perfect it was that I could just be idiotic and bumbling and naked and she didn't think any less of me. the moment just felt right.
I gently nudged her awake and said her name. and she woke up. and I said it. she smiled, groggily, and said it back.
--
being at home and with my family is allowing me to feel more relaxed because this is a place that is fully my own. but even then, I'm surrounded by reminders of how completely committed I was to her. yes - my home is mine and always will be - but she did hold it in her hands. she met my parents many times and had been to my hometown on multiple occasions. she knew about my midwestern melancholia, about my yearning to see the world because of it. about my dad who is always watching msnbc, and my mom who is eternally in the process of cooking something. about my neighbor, who puts up seasonal holiday lights and times it to music that you can tune into on the radio. about how there's nothing to do except play pickleball and go on walks by cornfields. about my middle school rubik's cube collection. about my chinese family friends who are essentially my cousins because we had no other chinese people around. this is a part of me I'm very willing to share with people, but she paid more attention than anyone else ever had.
I met her family too. once, across the world. we pretended I was just her friend. I told her mom that I heard she makes great beef noodle soup, and my ex later said that it made her very happy to hear that. she took me to the oceanside plaza with little art exhibits and vendors of assorted trinkets, and I realized that's why she loves to collect so many knick knacks. she took me to the night market by her childhood home and we bought guava and basil scallion pancakes and salt and pepper chicken. I understood why she never gets that excited about american apples or berries - why would you, when you grew up walking down the street for $3 fresh juice?
on a sunny morning, she took me to the twin pagodas in her hometown that she had hip tattoos in reference to. it was under repair, but it was still serene on the weekend, the water around it a murky green. there was nobody else around, so I held her hand. she had been telling me about the pagodas for a long time. yesterday, at home, I found a postcard she had mailed me when we were still only friends. it had a photo of them on it. the note said, I hope we can see it together some day. I don't know what I would do without you.
I cried. we did. she showed me a very intimate part of her life too, and that made her very vulnerable. maybe she was afraid. but she wanted to, for me.
I think she was all-in with me too - at least, as all-in as she could muster.