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Accidental Love

Sometimes, we go looking for love. And sometimes, love comes looking for us.

By Bailey TheismannPublished 5 years ago 5 min read
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After over a decade of being surrounded by drastically toxic people, I had become broken and was patched up just enough to ensure my survival of neglect and abuse. No more, no less. Many of those that hurt me made the more than convincing argument continuously that I was unlovable, and that my love itself was like poison, surely to start killing the moment it was given. So when he carelessly waltzed in, radiating sunshine, laughter, and a distinct concern for me, it was mildly distressing. Would I break him? Would I drive him away? Would I lose my chance at having someone in my life who cared about me? Or was this just a game for him?

He came to my rescue many times at work, popping up to calm me down when I had become emotionally charged, and would be crying my eyes out between cars, because I had just snapped. Taking me up in his arms while I ugly cried my heart out over something as simple as someone yelling at me. Calming the storm that raged within me, slowly destroying my sanity, and killing me from the inside out. But he relentlessly pieced me back together, and reminded me that I might be hurting, but it was okay to hurt. As long as I learned and moved on. I was not his responsibility, and we hardly knew each other, why would he do this?

He inched closer to me every day. Actively seeking me out at work, scoping me from the moment he first spotted me. Having heard my reputation of being a full throttle, damaged wild child who had the mouth of a sailor, and the attitude of a bad ass; that did not stop him from asking me to lunch. Even though we barely knew each other, it had seemed like we had been friends for decades. Effortlessly clicking from our first conversation in my messy ass car in the parking lot of our banal jobs.

Despite my overwhelming desire to just survive and take care of only myself, I let him in. He was now my friend, my responsibility. Turns out, he was just as damaged as me, just as lonely. And now it was my personal duty to myself to take care of him, because who else would?

Our friendship quickly grew. Like a dandelion growing through the cracks of the sidewalk, our friendship was unlikely, but wouldn't die. The oddest thing about him was, no matter how annoyed he'd make me or how much I didn't want to hear what he had to saw, his words always rang loud and clear. And I always listened. His voice was always filled with concern. Maybe his care for me was genuine. I was never one to listen, but he made sure I did. Even on my darkest days, he reminded me to take care of myself and that I'd get past it soon. And I always did the same for him, even if it meant poorly-timed phone calls, and late night drives to ensure he was safe and okay. Endless questions to make sure we cared for ourselves properly. Because sometimes that's all we need at the end of the day. Someone who asks if we took a shower, or ate a sufficient dinner. Someone who made sure that despite the darkness and depression, we fought on. We were always there for one another, through good and bad.

One day at lunch, I remember looking over at him while I was driving us to whatever mediocre fast food place was the least offensive sounding, and watching this grown ass man sing to his heart out to some new pop song. It was in that moment I realized this man was something special. That whoever ended up with him one day would be utterly blessed. That despite him being the type to cry on my shoulder after a long day, he was the strongest man I knew. After everything he had been through, his heart hadn't turned to stone. And honestly, I aspired to be like him. I had grown so cold in the fear of being hurt again, that it was hard to let people into my life or get close to me. As much as I hated to admit it, I think I loved this man.

All day, every day, if we weren't around each other, we were texting our way through the day. He made everything better. I wasn't afraid to be the purest form of myself around him. Jamming out in the car, chasing each other like children, and screaming when caught, stealing each other's fries at lunch, arguing over who would flip the french toast in the searing hot pan on a Sunday morning. And despite having lived a life away from the innocent touch of another human, I always craved his hugs. It just made everything melt away.

One night, we went out to the island, a local place that was often popular with night life. We sat on a bench, and listened to a young man singing to himself. It was cold, and I was leaned up against him, seeing as it was late and I was tired. All I remember was laughing and talking for hours on end until the young man down the sidewalk started singing "Can't Help Falling In Love" as he precariously watched us, assuming we were love birds by our body language. As I jumped up, he grabbed my arm, and blurted out a sentence that rings in my ears still.

"I love you."

I froze. Somebody loved me? How could this be? I was unlovable. I sat back down, confused.

But the words slipped from my lips, with no second thought, "I love you too."

I curled back up to him and rested my head and his shoulder. Maybe I wasn't as unlovable as I was led to think. I had never felt this way. I instantly had been thrown into a cycle of questioning my own beliefs. Beliefs forced upon me. This man, this damaged man, loved me despite my endless faults. And I loved him.

It was not many months later that we parted ways, because we needed to grow in our own directions for a while to hopefully reunite one day. But he changed me. He taught me how to take care of myself, even if it meant crying my eyes out while trying to brush my hair for the first time in two weeks. And while it hurts my heart that we aren't on speaking terms, he's moved on to better. He seems like he's doing well, and that he's happy, moving forward in life. But I will never forget that he taught me that I am not unlovable. And that my love is not poison. He taught me how to love myself and others. To be pure.

And while I wasn't looking for love, it damn sure found me by accident. He found me by accident. A chance meeting that led me to finding out more about myself in a year than two decades.

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