These last few months have been a lesson in growth for me. Me, the girl who will tell anyone anything - about herself or other people - has been withholding information. The girl who opens her heart and soul (I wrote "sole" first - but you don't want my shoes, trust me) to friends and strangers alike has been keeping things to herself. It's weird.
In every relationship I've been in, there has been a constant flow of information. Between me and the guy about myself (which includes my family, my work and my friends) and between me and my friends and family about me and the guy. It has annoyed both sides of the fence - family is frustrated that information is being shared about them without their consent and the guy is annoyed that nothing is sacred. One lamented that he was not only dating me, but my sisters and my cousins as well.
This has been different. I have guarded my time with The Guy jealously. I have not discussed each conversation with my friends to flesh out "what he meant by that" or "how much he really likes me" or "what future is there for us". I have guarded each conversation with ferocious tenacity - people asking about it received a snarling "None of your business".
I too have been less open with the amount of information I have shared with The Guy. Rather than opening my heart and throwing all my baggage on the table - in an effort to scare him off or make him fix me, I gave information in a slower stream. A friendly, less intense getting to know you - rather than a boot camp introduction to all my neurosis. I didn't tell him about my need to eat candy in pairs, but that I have to buy them in groups of fives. I didn't tell him about my problematic relationship with my father and the subsequent "Daddy Issues" that arose from that. I didn't even tell him about my mother's death until last week.
I have enjoyed getting to know him and letting him get to know me. I'm not in a panic as to where this is heading or where I have been. I'm not over loading him with information or family events. It has been pleasant. I have been enjoying myself. And I quite like him. More so than I thought I would allow myself to. I'm not sure where it's going, but it seems to be a good thing.
This is what I told a friend about him:
I think he's a good man. I like what he stands for and who he is. I like how he is with his friends and how much he cares about them. I like how tender he is and how gentle. And I like that he has the lamest sense of humour.
There. Sorry to keep you out of the loop.