"I miss you already."

I left Debbie's house for the airport yesterday about 2:30 in the afternoon—far earlier than I "needed" to leave for my flight, but it gave me plenty of time to return the rental car, and so on.

Part of why I left when I did is that her grandsons were about to arrive home from school, at which point her afternoon gets pretty structured until dinner time. By leaving when I did, I think I made things just a tiny bit simpler for her.

Three hours later, she sent me a text saying, "I miss you already. It was wonderful to spend a few days with you."

Of course such things are always delightful to read. But right away I began to wonder, What about me? Do I miss her already? My temporizing answer in the moment was that it was a little hard to say, because I was still in-transit, and was therefore thinking about the travel rather than about How I Felt in any more general way. But in another sense—deeper, and longer-term—I already knew that the answer was, No, not really. 

Am I a cad?

I can't admit this without recognizing that it speaks badly of me. Isn't this the basic meaning of the word cad, a man who toys with the affections of women without himself getting involved?* Am I no better than a cad?

Don't get me wrong. I love her dearly. She is one of a tiny number of people that I got to know deeply as soon as we met. (Chris is another. Dale may be another. But I'm no longer in touch with either of them in any meaningful way.) Debbie is, in a way that reaches far beyond romance, one of the great loves of my life.

But being around other people is tiring. At least for me. Figuring out what to say, what not to say, how to act—all that takes work! It's better with Debbie than with many others, in that I can afford to admit to things that are truly embarrassing (as she does, to me). And I have said before that years ago each of us gave the other "the right to say it wrong." All of these things are blessings, and I am grateful for them. At the same time, there are still limits. You remember the last two or three posts before this one? (I mean here, here, and maybe here.) Part of why I wrote them into an anonymous blog is that I didn't feel comfortable discussing them directly with Debbie in real life.

A month ago I speculated, "Maybe I need to fall in love [with somebody brand-new]. Maybe the NRE would drive me to get my ass in gear. Too bad I'm way too old for any of the equipment to work any more." But then I reflect that I may never let myself be that vulnerable to someone else again—maybe from old emotional scarring, and maybe because being emotionally open and vulnerable is just too damned much work.  

__________

* See, for example, the definition given by Words Defined, in this entry here: "A 'cad' is typically under­stood to refer to a man who behaves dishonorably or unethically, particularly in matters of romance or social relationships. It implies a lack of respect for others’ feelings, often associated with deceitful or exploitative behavior."