On love, beauty and greasy dumplings

Realizations from a kitchen that smelled like warm feelings

My dear friend. I was married for 12 years, but one day got divorced. Sadly.

So now, I’ve been on the epic journey of meeting new people. It has all been very educational, to say the least! Shocking, sometimes, since the last time I dated I was just a youth in Guadalajara, Mexico.

In my journals, I find snippets of conversations, thoughts, moments shared with these fellow humans I’ve connected with these last couple of years. I was thinking… how could I protect their identities? So, I’ll change their names, whabout that?

This guy, let’s call him Sunny…

…

And I remember that day I was eating dumplings at Sunny’s house and he was there eating mushrooms with butter and garlic.

I was just stuffing my face with my greasy fingers and he looked at me (I felt rather unsightly, with oil making my lips feel all shiny and slippery) and he looked at me, and said “you’re just so beautiful, your colours are just perfect!”.

We were in his kitchen and it felt warm and safe in there.

He was wearing a tank top and I was in my cozy pyjamas.

We had been just hanging around the whole day. Talking about ideas and projects and dreams and our pasts.

And he said I was beautiful and I felt he believed it.

I felt so safe.

As if having someone telling you you’re beautiful might protect you from being left behind.

As if being beautiful made sure that you got love.

That you Got Loved.

As I was chewing on my dumplings, I realized that, part of why I liked Sunny so much, is that he made me feel beautiful.

Which is a feeling I dont get as often as I wish I did.

And still…

that was the last time we shared the same space.

I ended up broken-hearted and I thought, well, he thought I was beautiful, so, maybe I should believe him or something?

Maybe I should take that gift he gave me?

That bit of healing he left me with?

He liked my materials.

He liked my fur and my leather and my bones.

He liked my colour palette and my volumes and my shapes.

He liked me for something I’ve never paid much attention to. At least not something I’ve paid positive attention to.

And yet, he left, rather easily.

What does that mean?

Well, to me, it means that, someone who loves you for your materials, doesn’t really love you all that much, does he?

It all left me wishing that he was open to get to know my soul.

But he didn’t.

And it’s ok.

It’s ok, now, after some time has passed.

BUT.

The important thing to recognize is that LOVE HAPPENED.

Love is inside any loving interaction.

And we had that moment, that minute, that hour, that day.

And love happened in there.

Can I keep it?

Can I get to keep it?

Do I get to keep the fact that he thought I was beautiful?

The love?

My decision is that, YES!

I want to keep it.

And I want to move on with that newfound revelation.

With that new feeling.

No matter who disagrees with it, I’ll keep it.

I’ll fight to keep it.

As for him.

Well.

I hope he keeps the gift I gave him.

My beliefs and my feelings about him.

The fact that, despite all his troubles, I deeply, deeply believe,

that he is good.