We met at Target, and now I can’t get him out of my head. I’ve tried not to get overly excited—truly I have—but damn it, I get him. And that kind of understanding is rare.

I think it’s okay to understand someone deeply and still accept that you might not end up together. And when I say okay —- I really mean “it’s okay but I’ll be hurt but I’ll also get through it” okay.

That truth hurts. It actually brings a tear to my eye.

I’m in my thirties now, and what’s wild is that I wasn’t raised to be in romantic relationships. I was raised to be cautious of them—mostly by not being taught anything at all. So when something real shows up, my heart beats louder. Stronger. I feel his pain from states away, the same way I feel pain from most people at a distance.

And that kind of feeling is exhausting.

It makes me feel useless—like I should be able to help, to fix, to save.

But I know that isn’t true. I’m not useless. I’m just caught in a familiar cycle of wanting to rescue people, and I’m learning—slowly—that I’m not God. I can only save myself.

So here I am, watching Heated Rivalry, cuddled up with my dog, realizing that maybe this is exactly where I’m supposed to be tonight. Safe. Still. Whole.

Besides, this love started with a phone call.

And maybe it’s meant to stay within one.

From my couch,

Teish