Bae went to the doctor with me this morning. I talked to the doctor about how I was feeling. He advised on next steps, then she stepped in with all of the questions. Bae having questions is her being true to herself.

While she spent a good portion of our first date avoiding my eyes, many of our first phone calls (and future dates) consisted of her asking a lot of questions about who I was. After a few months, I knew to expect clarifying questions about any statement I made. 

Me: I had the best ice cream today. 
Bae: What made it the best ice cream?

Before we started dating, she left a comment on one of my Instagram posts:
I have questions…all of them actually. 

In the early days, I was asked simple questions, like:
– What’s your favorite color?
– What’s your favorite kind of food?
– What do you like to drink?

To more complex questions like:
– What does dating look like to you?
– Do you want children?

All of these questions made me feel as though she really wanted to know me. She’s invested in getting to know how my mind works and what I want or need. These questions made me feel safe, until they didn’t. 

There is a part of me that believes I started to fall for her on our first date when Stevie Wonder’s Ribbon in the Sky filled the restaurant. My aunt sang this at my mom’s wedding as she walked down the aisle. The romantic in me believed this was a sign that she was sent to me by my mother. 

When I admitted to myself that I was without a doubt in love, based on her actions and words, I believed we were on the same page. I also knew that her past might make it harder for her to say the words. So after a little over a month of dating, I told her I loved her. 

Her response: Why?
My response: *crushed heart*

I immediately felt unsafe. Ironically, I wasn’t searching for reciprocity. I wanted her acceptance. I wanted her to be ok with her being loved by me. 

I felt so exposed (and not just because I was naked). Minutes later, I found myself seated on her face. I was trying to get my body to feel something that would distract me from what was happening in my brain, but it didn’t happen. I had to get up and leave her apartment. I cried the entire way home. 

We had our first tough conversation that night. As you might guess, there were more questions while she tried her best to understand my feelings and reactions. While having this conversation was hard, it allowed me to see how communication would play a major role in our relationship. 

A week later, she told me she loved me. She stumbled through it (and I let her). It was never my intention to rush her, but to make myself vulnerable, so she could be too. 

Anyone else ever taken a risk like that?

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