To: Nataly
It’s the fifteenth Valentine’s Day I’ve gotten to spend with Nataly, and once again, my plans to do something conventional and cheesy with her have gotten all messed up by circumstance. I’m the romantic one in the relationship, the one who wants to dress up and go on dinner dates and drink wine, with chocolate and flowers and kitschy cards. But every year, despite my intention to make it the best, most dateyest, most romantical Valentine’s Day ever, something always happens to thwart our plans. Family emergencies. Shingles. Bad backs. No money. No time. It’s basically tradition now to spend Valentine’s Day all laid up, our house a mess, dishes in the sink, a snapshot of real life on a day that’s “supposed” to be all sexy and fun and flirty.
This year, I have Covid because of course I do.
But I’m not writing this because I’m disappointed we don’t get to go out for dinner. Everyone knows that Valentine’s Day is whatever, and spending the day immersed in real life is, to me, the most romantic way to honor love. I’m writing this because the other day, Nat and I were talking about how proud we are of us, about how far we’ve come and how far we’re still willing to go. And since the only card I have for her today is a positive BinaxNOW card, I figured putting my own thoughts about it into words might be the perfect substitute for a Valentine.
When Nataly and I tell people that we’re building a house, that we’ve been living together in such a tiny space for almost two years, the comment we always get is, “Wow, and you’re still together?” It’s funny because yeah, living in this small space is stressful. Cabin chores are stressful. Hearing Nataly chew is stressful (and if she wants to talk about MY chewing, she can write her own blog, alright?). We are VERY different people when it comes to our needs, our wants, our communication styles. I am all emotion all the time. Nat is that meme where the girl’s saying he must be thinking of other women but he’s actually thinking of ham or something. When things get tough, sometimes we clash.
She’s not always equipped to handle my Complex-PTSD. I’m not always equipped to handle her neurodivergence. Sometimes she forgets to communicate her needs. Sometimes I forget that I’m in charge of meeting my own needs. We slip up a lot, going through periods of time feeling disconnected. Frustrated. Confused. And yeah, building a house together is stressful, because when we play video games, Nataly is the one hiding in the grass, strategizing, taking her time, and I’m the one who goes in all guns-a-blazin’, all act now and ask questions later. (Super Mario Wii almost ended our marriage…Not really but…almost…)
But that’s the thing about being in a human (non-toxic!!!) relationship, isn’t it? Whether it’s a friendship, or a marriage, familial, or professional—We can always learn to build more space. Nat and I are living in this tiny cabin, inches from the particular things that annoy us about each other, the many things we clash over like where certain items should live and whose turn it is to take out the gray water, normal things that sometimes get intensified by proximity. But even though the walls are close, and I hate the sound of chewing, our world keeps expanding because we’re always trying to learn about each other without sacrificing ourselves. We’re always trying learn about ourselves without sacrificing each other. We keep building space, however imperfectly, for who we were, who we’ve become, and who we want to be, and we send each other funny reels at night to communicate what we can’t, to make fun of each other, and to acknowledge that we’re just as human as everyone else. (Also, Nat bought me noise canceling headphones so she can chew in peace.)
So yeah. It makes sense that we always spend Valentine’s Day immersed in the human condition, being the opposite of sexy, fun, and flirty, because that’s the best part about love. And there’s no one else I’d rather live in a tiny space with than her.