Author's note: This post is neither funny nor spiritually edifying. It is, rather, an uncharacteristically personal post that I wrote because I felt writing would be better than beating my head against a wall. As it turns out, writing was only marginally better.
To my chipped diamond,
It’s like driving on black ice. This relationship, I mean. One moment I think I know what’s going on. I’m sitting behind the wheel, and the road stretches before me, known and knowable, each curve, each straightaway leading toward a destination, taking me where I want to go. And then, without warning, that familiar pavement is gone and all four wheels are slipping and sliding on mirror polished ice. All that remains is that sickening spinning, that almost weightless, mostly hollow feeling of powerlessness.
Do you know what the trouble with black ice is? You can’t see it coming, and you can’t do anything about it once you’re on it. No longer the master of my destiny, I slide along, all four wheels spinning uselessly, my destination controlled by momentum and dumb luck.
I wonder, sometimes, whether I’ll ever hit dry pavement again. Maybe this is it, this you and I, maybe I’ll never feel grounded around you, never feel in control of anything when you’re in the room or in my thoughts. A man has plenty of time to think when he’s spinning out of control, time to think and nothing else.
I can see that same look in your eyes, the far away gaze of someone without traction, without direction, and I think that’s the only reason I can do this. I wonder, can you see solid ground from your perspective? Can you see an end to this freefall?
Do you know how I do it, how I live with the question of friend or something else hanging unanswerable above our heads? I ignore the question entirely. I shut off the part of me that needs to know, that part of me that analyzes, that thinks. When I’m around you, I don’t give you a title, don’t place you into one of the columns labeled “friend,” “acquaintance,” or… well, you get the picture. Instead, I let go of the wheel, take my foot off the brake, and enjoy the ride.
Because that’s all a guy can do when he’s spinning on black ice.
To my chipped diamond,
It’s like driving on black ice. This relationship, I mean. One moment I think I know what’s going on. I’m sitting behind the wheel, and the road stretches before me, known and knowable, each curve, each straightaway leading toward a destination, taking me where I want to go. And then, without warning, that familiar pavement is gone and all four wheels are slipping and sliding on mirror polished ice. All that remains is that sickening spinning, that almost weightless, mostly hollow feeling of powerlessness.
Do you know what the trouble with black ice is? You can’t see it coming, and you can’t do anything about it once you’re on it. No longer the master of my destiny, I slide along, all four wheels spinning uselessly, my destination controlled by momentum and dumb luck.
I wonder, sometimes, whether I’ll ever hit dry pavement again. Maybe this is it, this you and I, maybe I’ll never feel grounded around you, never feel in control of anything when you’re in the room or in my thoughts. A man has plenty of time to think when he’s spinning out of control, time to think and nothing else.
I can see that same look in your eyes, the far away gaze of someone without traction, without direction, and I think that’s the only reason I can do this. I wonder, can you see solid ground from your perspective? Can you see an end to this freefall?
Do you know how I do it, how I live with the question of friend or something else hanging unanswerable above our heads? I ignore the question entirely. I shut off the part of me that needs to know, that part of me that analyzes, that thinks. When I’m around you, I don’t give you a title, don’t place you into one of the columns labeled “friend,” “acquaintance,” or… well, you get the picture. Instead, I let go of the wheel, take my foot off the brake, and enjoy the ride.
Because that’s all a guy can do when he’s spinning on black ice.
Comments
Bud, the ice has always been about a year deep for me. Trust in God, when nothing else works, God does.
I'll put it this way. Everyone person I've ever met has a list of attributes they're looking for in a significant other. She didn't complete my list. She made me realize that my list was woefully inadequate.
1. She made me raise my standards.
2. Love's a big word. I'd like to spend enough time with her to find out.
3. She doesn't know what she wants.
Thanks for being honest,Tom.
PS...I totally don't remember writing that list of questions. I really should have skipped it and gone to bed. Sorry! The joy of Ambien.
Thanks. No hurry is good advice when it comes to any kind of relationship.