The challenge of getting to know you

Last month, as D and I were on our way to the airport at the end of our eighteenth date, the conversation flagged for a while. D obviously felt funny about the silence, and so started asking me questions, seemingly at random: Do you have any activities planned for Son 1 this summer? Will he be pursuing an exercise regimen to keep in shape for sports? How are you going to pay for private school next year? Do you have any plans for the summer with friends in town? How many of the parents at Son 2’s school have you been able to get close to? Or were you closer to the parents at the primary school both boys used to attend? I guess that the parents of Son 2’s best friend, Sherry and Martin [those are the parents], were maybe your closest friends there, is that right? And so on. This didn’t have the result she was looking for, however, because after each question I got quieter and more sullen. Finally she gave up and we drove in quiet most of the rest of the way to the airport.
In an e-mail not long after, D wrote to me, …

I did want to say that I’m sorry I asked so many silly, non-important questions at the end of our brief stay together in Faraway City, which made me seem like I was just fishing for something—anything—to say and which bored you. I am still struggling with accepting your depression and moodiness without becoming alarmed or nervous. I certainly don’t mean to babble on about nothing and I realize how tiring that kind of behavior can be…I have many more interesting things to say (I hope) and I can also remain silent without discomfort if I am feeling confident. I’m learning; please be patient with me.

Hmmm, … well. Somehow that didn’t sound quite right, so I tried to feel my way around what sounded wrong with it. My reply went, in part, like this:

About all those questions at the end of our stay, please don’t take fright. Also, “bored” doesn’t really capture my reaction. It’s more that … gosh, how can I explain this?

• At one level I had trouble just figuring out the correct answer to some of what you asked. For example, were we close to Son 2’s friend’s parents? It depends what you mean by “close.” Certainly I was comfortable going over there and chatting with Sherry or Martin for some hours while the kids played, and I would have felt a lot more awkward doing that with the parents of any of their other friends. But there is another definition of “close” where I feel like maybe I have to say, “Ummm, gosh, … we both know I’m cripplingly shy; how close can I get to anyone?” That’s one level.
  


• At another level, I started to feel like your questions all related to things I should have done and hadn’t, like making concrete plans for the summer; so I began to feel the fingertips of Failure crawling up my back as I reflected on all these missed opportunities or obligations.
  


• And at a third level, I guess a lot of questions in a short time just left me feeling … I don’t know, confused or at a loss. It’s not like you were asking me, “Where were you on the night Mrs. McGillicudy was stabbed? Isn’t it true that you have no credible alibi?” But I did begin to feel a little bit at sea. Too much, too fast, as it were.

In any event, I know you didn’t intend any of this, so don’t fret over it. Apology is superfluous because the forgiveness is in place before the words are spoken. It’s just that you are still getting used to my cycles of ebullient talk alternated with inarticulate quiet. I get that. It takes time to get used to anything. So it’s OK, really ….

Her reply back to me made a distinction that I hadn’t seen before:

You must realize that when I apologize for being awkward, as i did after my silly questions at the airport, I'm not really 'blaming myself' for some wrong deed. Rather, our language seems to lack the proper way to acknowledge the very real challenge of getting to know another person; I want to learn the purity of your spirit, the refinement of your mind, the delight of your humor, your rising and falling moods, your dearest hopes and desires. What we have together is set against the typical, youth-oriented vision of 'falling in love' because loving you seems more akin to organic growth, so deep and so subtle as to have surprised us both. There is, of course, no 'one love' for a person; we have both loved others. And yet...there is something so fine and so deep and true about our love…. I believe we might be wise if we recognized that it is not easy to love well, and even that not everyone has an endless capacity to grow in this area.

The flattery was enchanting, of course; but I was particularly taken by her re-framing of the words “I’m sorry.” I think she is on to something. And it can be hard to get to know someone, even when you both love each other to pieces ….