Two drinks in and we were standing out in Brooklyn’s cold night air, taking a breather.
We’d been dancing ironically and irreverently to some DJ pumping 90’s rap music for hours. It was my birthday. As we huddled together, I could sense he was opening up; it always felt so good when he’d let me know what was going on behind his many defenses and armoring. I felt excited at the idea of getting closer.
He started to say quietly, “I saw this girl standing at the bar. She looked so put together, with her white coat and expensive purse…so perfect, and so very boring. It made me think just how grateful I am to be with you; you’re so sweet, so beautiful, and just cool. But I never tell you when I think these things. I always hold back. I’m afraid of giving you too much power.”
Gut punch. A truth I didn’t necessarily want to hear.
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