*sigh*

The distraction brought on by NBB the past couple of weeks started me on an agonizing path of questioning my relationship with Broadway. Every. Single. Day.

The first real question came when I tried imagining the rest of my life with Broadway. In my mind, that thought was followed by silence, then the question: “Really? Isn't that settling?" My thoughts then wandered to kids, and I just couldn’t see myself having kids with him. I felt that I would be having kids for the sake of having kids, and not because I so very much love the man such that I would want to have something that we would share and create together.

I should be with someone with whom I’m excited to spend the rest of my life, and with whom I want to see as the father of my children, right?

A few days ago, I saw Broadway’s frame walking away from me, with his usual slumped shoulders and slightly scrawny frame that I have always liked and found endearing. As I watched him walk away, I almost broke out in tears. All I could think about was how Broadway is a good, good man. He wants good for the world. He wants good for the people he loves. And he wants good for me. And what do I do? I agonize over and over about whether or not we should be together. And he has no idea.

We do argue. A lot. He’s even walked out sometimes completely angry, swearing that he’s had enough of my temper. I keep telling him that my temper is part of who I am, so he responds by saying he just doesn't want to deal with it anymore. When he does this, I let him leave. Once he came back so upset that I would let him leave in that state, that I wouldn't even try to stop him or to salvage our relationship.

Yes, I feel guilty that I don't try to stop him. I just never feel the panic that I think I ought to feel when faced with a great big breakup. My thoughts jump to, “Well, I guess that’s it. Back to being single.” No emotions, no hysterics. I can't help feeling that I must harbor some secret hope that he would just call it quits on me once and for all.

Something’s wrong with that reaction. If I really valued this relationship, if I really valued being with him, I would be much more emotional on the verge of a breakup, right?

We hardly ever have real serious conversations about us without it being at the tail end of a fight, but we did on Saturday.

I’m not sure how it started, but I ended up playing the victim. I told him how the things that he despises (suburban America, middle class life, regular routines, etc. etc.) were the very things that I was brought up to value. Evolving my views toward his, and he knows I have, has created a growing gap between my opinions and those of my parents. Not to say we should hold on to what our parents tell us our whole lives, but I shouldn’t have to feel this guilt I’ve felt recently that I’m somehow betraying them, leaving them in the dust. All they wanted as immigrants was to give me a good life, raise me in that good life, that good middle class life. Who am I to now reject that, knowing that they sacrificed everything they had to raise me in a middle class American way? Who am I to say that’s trite and unoriginal? Who is he to impose these opinions on me and make me feel silly and inadequate for having other opinions?

He admitted that he has a lot of idealistic views about the world and that he is also quite hypocritical in that he often does exactly what his ideals dictate he shouldn’t do. He actually said “In that sense, I guess I’m pretty close-minded.”

A small celebration went off in my head when he said that. It's exactly what I'd thought. I’d always thought him to be hypocritically close-minded (and unreasonably liberal and paranoid, paranoidedly liberal). On the occasions that I'd told him so, he always would get defensive right away (insecurity with the truth of what I was saying?), and we end up fighting.

Broadway was pouring his heart out to me Saturday, and I couldn’t think of anything to say back. Some character flaw of my own to share, perhaps? Or reassurance that he really isn’t all that close-minded? Anything would have been good. Instead, I had nothing to say. I was too busy celebrating what he had just admitted to.

We are very different people, and he acknowledged that. We have different views on the purpose of our lives, of what we want to get out of our social interactions with others, on what would make us happy. All of these are fundamental differences. During that conversation, I felt that the elephant in the room that neither one of us wanted to be the first to acknowledge was the fact that we’re just too different to be together.

Turns out, only I thought that.

He didn’t want to give up trying. He tentatively asked me, “Do you?”

I could only say “No, I don’t want to give up either.”

He admitted that he’s had some tough times lately. He’s depressed. He’s thinking about going to see a doctor. He’s often unhappy. “But please don’t leave me. I don’t want you to leave me.”

“No, Broadway, I won’t leave you.”

“You make me so happy. You pulled me through some of my worst times. I was in bad shape right when we started dating. I know you get frustrated that I don’t share your happiness about the world, but your happiness gives me happiness. With you, I’m only unhappy some of the time. Without you, I would be unhappy all of the time. So unhappy. Please don’t leave me.”

His earnest eyes looked at me, and he buried his head in my shoulders. I felt tears welting up into my eyes. He is such a good man to me. He would do anything for me. He has done so much for me already. I've put him through so much. Who am I to judge his worth now? Who am I to tear his world apart and throw him back into a horrible horrible place?

“I love you Seine. You love me too, right?”

“I love you.”