What I wanted

I’m taking some time off from all the internal strife and angst to return to peace after what seemed like a failed attempt at assertive love.  I admit now that I had an agenda which in hindsight smells more of manipulation and deception than authentic and unconditional acceptance.  My intentions were to see if W really wanted to be with me like he claimed and perhaps more importantly did I want to be with him?  At stake at the end of the week was a party I wasn’t certain I should attend, especially if it meant going with W.  What made the whole week manipulative was that I wasn’t clear about what I wanted to discover. The results were needlessly hurtful to both of us.

I just wanted to know if he would respond to assertive love.  What I didn’t know was how to love assertively using his language(5 love languages)  Because he said “I like being with you” and because I had three days with nothing to do,  I smothered him with what I thought was quality time.  When he responded at least three times in frustration, I found myself immediately in my head with my default thought, which is “I’m not wanted.”  And even though I had the sense to know that what I was thinking wasn’t true,  I had no words of affirmation from him to move forward.  I imagine during these internal battles, I was cold and distant.  So physical touch was out of the question.  I was on my own even though I remained in his space.  I imagine that he did NOT experience assertive love, thereby nullifying my whole secret experiment.

But I pressed on, foolishly thinking I was getting somewhere toward a clear understanding of what was going on between us and therefore be closer to making a decision about the party.  In my mind was the possibility that we could be friends at least and have a good time together with mutual respect in a relatively public setting.  I didn’t express any of this to him even though we were spending a great deal of time together.  (To be fair, we were not exactly alone much. Tuesday night, Wednesday afternoon and Friday night were with A&M.). I felt disrespected and blamed myself for allowing it all to happen.  I had no idea how he felt—until the morning of the party.  Weirdly, he felt exactly like I did:  disrespected, judged, alone, frustrated, manipulated, and upset.

The party was disastrous.  Alcohol unleashed W’s inhibitions, giving me the opportunity to judge unfairly, being the sober one still searching for proof.  I maintained the victim status, angered by his drunken audacity.  And I made things significant at least until he needed my help.  Only then did I love him assertively through an act of service.  He saw it as love, and responded with words of affirmation.  I saw my actions as codependent behavior and therefore dismissed his response as meaningless.

I still have so much to learn about love.

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