getting to know you

I wish I knew how to do really cool things like hyperlink that title and hear Deborah Kerr's voice.

But I don't. Technoloser.

You know, there are times when I DON'T want cheerful, helpful, kind people - like when they take my blood. I went to have bloodwork done and the woman was so nice and pleasant and efficient - but I really didn't want to have a conversation with her - about the weather, the mountain view, breakfast, ANYTHING - when she was sticking a huge needle in my arm draining away my lifeforce (which, BTW, sure seemed to me like my blood was dark and thick - I wonder if I have my father's genetic condition of too many red blood cells produced - which most of the family takes care of by regularly donating blood - which Susan also does all the time just because she's a good person - but nobody wants my jungle-tainted blood for sure - nobody has taken it since 1986, before my first trip to Central America). (And BTW, I think I've decided NOT to take anti-malarial medication on future trips. If I don't get malaria at least once, I'm an imposter.)

And then I called Dayton. Because it's almost Valentine's Day and I don't have to work today (have I mentioned how much I hate my job?). Which they DO celebrate there, those "Little Americans" (hey, they call themselves that - I don't), and he WOULD be bringing home flowers and chocolates if he were here (he doesn't understand my love of chocolate and coffee at all, but he just accepts it). It was the best conversation we've had since November (when the phones started going haywire). And I got the laugh. I love his laugh.

Me: How many wives did your father have?
Him: Oh, too many! [in Liberian English, like most pidgins and creoles, "too" often denotes "a lot" or "very" without the negative evaluative connotation of "too" - so I usually ask further]
Me: How many? Like, six, didn't you say?
Him: Yeah, I didn't even know them all. Probably about six. Too many.
Me: And how many do you want?

The laugh. It's only very slightly nuanced depending on provocation. Sometimes it's a nervous laugh (like "Oh shit, what should I be saying? Is there any way out of this trap?" like when a man is asked "Do I look fat in these pants?") Sometimes it's an almost dismissive laugh (not to be confused with his scornful laugh, which I have heard though never at me) which is used to descalate or segue, to signal a refusal to engage in combat (which I'm often gunning for because my superpower is, after all, sabotage).
This one though, there was that little pause, and hearty laugh. He likes it when I'm funny, and the more we're together the more we get each others' humor. He pauses before the laugh though, because I do deliver in deadpan style, which confuses most, and gives me a chance to follow-up if I'm serious about it.

Which I'm not really. Past boyfriends have told me I leave no energy for them to cheat on me even if they wanted to. I'm kind of all-consuming and demanding.

But our relationship, it doesn't play by my rules - or western rules at all really. It's this constant negotiation and renegotation - too often implicit by my standards - that often disorients me. I have no idea what a "good girlfriend" is in his eyes, and he doesn't understand when I'm dissatisfied when he's doing everything a "good boyfriend" in his mind does. And adultery would be something completely different within the context of our relationship.

So there are all these opportunities for misunderstandings and conflict. On the other hand, when I try to sabotage and bail, he'll have none of that. He's nice stability for me.

What the future holds, I have no idea. But I do love his laugh.