Know and Be Known

He knows I’m particular about my feet—in that they MUST stick out of the covers while we sleep.

I know he’s particular about his feet—in that I MUST pumice them every time he comes to visit.

 

He knows I will probably yell at him if he comes around when I’ve been drinking.

I know that’s why he stays away on Friday nights.

 

He knows I cry too much.

I know he jokes too much.

(We both know this is a disastrous combination.)

 

He knows I am bad at driving.

I know he is bad at vulnerability.

 

He knows I could live on seafood and veggies forever.

I know he could live on pepperoni pizza and chicken forever.

 

He knows I’ll give him all the Reese’s in the pack.

I know he’ll take them even if I don’t offer.

 

He knows when I say I’ll be home in an hour, it will be two.

I know when he says he’ll call me back, he won’t.

 

He knows which tears to comfort and which tears are out-of-line.

I know he’ll always be there when it counts.

 

He knows not to tell me to “shhh.”

I know not to call him a “bitch.”

 

He knows I talk to other guys, but he’s my baby.

I know he talks to other girls, but ho’s are ho’s.

 

He knows everything I hate, adore, miss and crave about him.

I know the same. 

 

And there’s something about being known, isn’t there? I think that’s why so many people, including myself, blog. It’s a shameless effort to be understood. A plea for a connection.

 

Yes, there’s something about being known, not famously, but intimately. That he can know my deepest flaws and insecurities but choose to care for me regardless—that’s special. It’s on a level of unconditional.

 

Being known for better or worse is all we really want. It’s why we share secrets, why we hold hands to discuss the feelings we don’t want to confront, why we make promises, and why we pour everything we have into another person, even while fearing he won’t like what he sees.

 

Because when somebody does like what they see—when even my tantrums, emotional breakdowns, hang-ups and bad decisions don’t deter him—the realness is beautiful.

 

Nobody has to love anybody. We choose the souls we delight in. Appreciate those who choose you. Choose those who appreciate you. Know and be known.