I used to think that you knew you loved someone when you heart skips a beat when you see them, or hear their voice, or even just think about them. While that may be true experience has taught me that these are not the only times when you find out you love someone.
In fact your depth of feeling for someone is displayed when you think you are about to lose them, or someone hurts them. This was demonstrated to me over the last week by some events that occurred in our off-line lives. I can’t describe them exactly as that would break one of the carefully chosen rules that we have; We don’t discuss our family or close friends in such detail that they or we would become identifiable. What I can say is that someone deliberately tried to manipulate Suze with the possible intention of causing her hurt and causing friction in our relationship.
Because the person who attempted this has been known to both of us for years, as has the person they tried to use as an intermediary to mask their intentions, Suze saw through the rather strange and strained phone call she received last weekend and the instigator of this pointless and potentially destructive plan was thwarted.
What hurt Suze was that both of the people involved were not strangers but people who she and I thought were very close to us. And that cuts very deep.
I experienced one of those moments where I was reminded just how much I love Suze. The feeling of dread that overwhelmed me as she recounted what had happened. The sick feeling in my stomach as I felt her pain and the boiling, explosive anger towards the perpetrators of this pointless and self-serving plot that threatened to make me do something that I would, by now, have regretted.
When you are in love, truly in love, you become part of each other. It’s not a lust thing, or a bit of a crush you share part of each other’s mind and personality. You truly feel your partner’s pain and that amplifies your reaction to anything that might hurt them.
I’m still angry, more angry than I think I’ve ever been. This isn’t the hot, fresh anger that you feel when you’ve been wronged but the deep, smouldering, unstoppable mass of molten lava-like rage that makes you want to let out a long, loud roar that engulfs your common sense and makes you tear the object of that anger into tiny pieces.
For that reason alone I am happy that by the time you read this the object of my rage will be on an aeroplane and several thousand miles away from me. A fact that they should be very happy about too.