Firestarter

“Love is friendship set on fire.”

-Jeremy Taylor-

 

As far as I’m concerned, the single greatest thing about new relationships, is the lack of a rule book. No guidelines. No grand design.

One thing I’ve always hated (and I’m sure many can agree), is when someone approaches you at the height of a new relationship and makes statements such as, “It’s too soon.” Or,  “You’re moving too fast. Slow down a little and think it through. Don’t jump from one relationship straight into another. Are you crazy?! Don’t make a mistake you’ll regret.”

Horse malarkey. If something was a mistake, we need only learn from that mistake and try to do better next time.

“Ok, master relationship person. What is the designated time frame to abide by? Hmmmm? How many dates should we go on? Can I see this book your getting your info from? Can we text, Skype, or talk on the phone? You tell me… what are the rules?”

There are no rules.

Some relationships have lasted decades, some into old age, and have originated from a spouse throwing out another, and moving someone right in, not an hour later. In many cases, that new relationship has been active, long before the breakup even occurs.

While that situation is typically frowned on by others watching from afar, or the fine folks smack dab in the middle of it, a connection was made regardless. Two people have united, and then life goes on.

Most of the time, people get over it. The victim(s) of the situation takes a liiiiiittle bit longer to “get over it” but eventually, new connections are made and life goes on.

I believe in connections. I believe we’re all connected in one way, shape or form, even if it’s only destined to be a short time. Some are subtle connections, while some are intense and almost indescribable. A collective consciousness that weaves, travels, and intertwines with others when the time is right.

Or, I could be a complete fruit loop, and talking just for the sake of talking tonight. It’s been a pretty long, ugly week, and I have my moments. Sometimes I enjoy the esoteric more than the designed lifestyle surrounding me, so my sincere apologies for rambling this time around.

Sometimes the connections start out subtle, and then escalate into indescribable. Profound moments. Moments you can’t share with others cause they’ll think you’re crazy and it goes against all they might believe in. I can only speak for myself. I’d dare not venture into others people’s experiences. I can only speak from my own.

Moving in together was a tough spot to be in, at first. The first few days were a challenge because we had all this external negative energy surrounding us. Some people were quite pleased with the decision we made, and we were supported, while others were more openly opinionated and negative about the decision.

For the most part, we didn’t care what others thought. We were two grown adults doing what we believed was right for our lives. Opinions be damned.

But unpacking and setting up the new home, was pretty quiet initially.

I remember sitting cross-legged on the kitchen floor opening a box labeled “collectibles” and thinking about a space in the basement where I could store them.

I sealed the tote, wrapped it in duct tape to ensure it was tightly closed and “basement proof” and approached the cellar door. She looks to me, “Where are you going with those?”

“Taking them downstairs.”

“Why?”

“I thought they’d be better off down there, and it keeps the walls open for your stuff. You have wayyyyyy more than I do.”

“No. I was just thinking your stuff would look good over here along this wall. Besides, I need that tote for Christmas decorations.”

I was frozen. I didn’t know exactly what to do. Was she kidding? Was she toying with me?

Something isn’t right.

“In fact, “she continued, “put them wherever you want.” She gestured broadly to the mostly empty space. “There’s enough room for mine.”

Ok… something about Nancy that I must get out of the way. She collects M & M trinkets.

Toys, stuffed figures, pillows, blankets, coffee cups, Christmas ornaments, coloring books, candy dispensers, metal tins, cookie jars, puzzles, calendars, antiques, Hot Wheels still mint on card, hats, key chains, tee shirts, her Comic Con lanyard… M & M Monopoly.

She has five M & M characters tattooed on her left shoulder blade, to include Miss. Green, and the orange one is her favorite.

My home has been called by my kid’s friends, the M & M Museum. M&M paraphernalia is literally everywhere. Every room. Every shelf, nook cranny and corner from the moment you enter my home, is decorated with M & M stuff. We have a blue plastic children’s M & M canteen hanging from a hook in the mudroom.

Not a joke.

She would like to stay at the M & M hotel someday.

All my stuff fits comfortably around hers.

I have a love for science fiction. Star Trek, Star Wars, Stargate, Star Fox. She pulled out her hybrid M & M collectibles, Darth Vader, R2D2 and Optimus Prime and set them beside mine.

I almost cried.

Not because I’m a geek and I finally had a home where I could be me, in my entirety, but that she too was comfortable and could be herself as well. That struck a chord with me. To quite a few out there, this toy metaphor may seem foolish.

To me it was a goldmine.

All that negative energy vanished. I felt light on my feet. My growing adoration for her escalated. I felt a warm glow deep in my gut. A complete sense of comfort.

Symbiosis.

Then out of nowhere, he showed up. A slow lumbering figure from the corner of my eye. A shadow creeping out from within the shadows of my periphery.

I knew who it was, but tried to ignore it.

Somehow he breached the veil and entered the waking world. The conjuration of my unconscious mind sneaking his way into a place he shouldn’t exist. Joe decided to join the unpacking and make himself at home.

I looked to Nancy. She was finishing pounding a nail in the wall and mid swing she slowly turned her attention to my wide open eyes. I whispered, “Ice cream?” gesturing to the door leading outside.

She lowered the hammer to the floor, never questioning or hesitating, and said, “Ice cream.”

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