I'm going to tell you a mushy story about me and the Lumberjack, that involves me acting absolutely ridiculous. Please don't judge me too harshly.
I am a firm believer that saying "I love you" should be sincerely meant, but if and when it is sincerely meant, I believe it should be said often.
When the Lumberjack and I had been dating for a while, there came a time when I knew I wanted to say it. I wanted to say it because every time I saw him, I felt it. I felt it hard and strong, and I wanted to finally let those words escape my mouth and then I hoped and wished and yearned to hear those same little/big words come out of his mouth and soar right back to me. But I was scared. He's a lot more reserved than I am, and I couldn't bear the thought of saying them and not having him return them. The idea was mortifying.
I said them one day out of no where. I can't remember how he responded, and it wasn't rude in any way, it was kind, but he didn't say it back. It was something along the lines of "I'm pretty sure I feel that way about you too, but I am way too scared to say it."
I let it slide and waited. Impatiently. That's pretty much the only waiting I know how to do.
Finally I couldn't handle it anymore. Even more months had passed and I couldn't see how he didn't feel it. If he didn't feel it after this long, why was he even still with me? So one night, late, while I was far past sleepy and extremely over emotional, I texted him and called him out on the whole thing. Why hadn't he said it? Did he still not feel it? Was I unloveable? (With my ex, he hardly ever said it to me, claiming to hate the obligation of saying "I love you". He saw the whole thing as unnecessary and stupid.) In response, the Lumberjack admitted that he had only ever said the phrase to one past girlfriend (one that, to this day, I have weird and jealous issues with, for no appropriate or sane reason) and you guys, I lost it. Completely. I texted tons of things, heartbroken things. Things asking if he wished he could still be with his ex. Asking why he was even with me in the first place.
I was a mess.
He responded with "I really think you need sleep...please try to get some, and I'll talk to you about it when you come over tomorrow." That made me angrier, and sleep did not come easily. Tossing and turning, positive he was going to tell me that yes, he did wish he was still with his ex, and no, he did not love me.
When I got to his apartment the next day, he was still at work. I let myself in and waited. I paced, fidgeted, and worried to the point of tears about the conversation we were about to have. I heard his car pull up and nervously met him at the door, ready to tell him to forget the conversation, and please lets just move on.
He grabbed me in a huge hug and whispered into my ear that he loved me. He had for months, but just didn't know how to work up the courage to say it. And as for the outburst from me last night, he certainly wasn't going to say "I love you" for the first time through a text. Thats not how he works.
I swooned, and melted, and felt insanely foolish, all in one instant. It was a rush, and I'm so glad that it worked out, despite my psychotic emotions. Hooray for the Lumberjack!
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