Keeping the stakes small for the sake of holding onto what little you can get creates an aching void you become afraid to lose. Who is benefiting from walking on eggshells?
I’d been dating MacGyver for 2 years. He lived 2 hours away so when he came to visit me, he would stay for a few days at a time, maybe even up to a week. He would bring an overstuffed backpack with his clothes and things.
“Would you like to have your own drawer in my dresser so you don’t have to take your clothes back and forth when you visit?” I offered.
“No, that’s okay,” he declined. “I don’t have enough clothes to leave here. I’ll need them when I go back home.”
His birthday was coming up, and when I asked him what he wanted for his birthday, he waived me off, saying his birthday wasn’t important and he didn’t want anything. All he wanted, he said, was to spend that day with me.
MacGyver was always uncomfortable if I called him handsome or gave him any compliments. He blushed without color if I thanked him in person, so I would just write him letters. I was a writer, after all, and that was the only gift he ever really acted like he appreciated. Other than that, he also let me cook for him. I felt spoiled, as he was always fixing things around my house, taking me on dates, and paying for meals and admission. I know I didn’t have expensive tastes, but I still felt like I was taking more than I was giving. But no matter what I offered, he said that a simple thank you and a cooked meal was all he wanted in return.
Having grown up in a home where my mom always made sure to make our birthdays special, I likewise planned meaningful events for my own family. I couldn’t afford much, but I put a lot of thought and care into making my people feel cherished on their birthdays.
Despite MacGyver not wanting to make a big deal about his birthday, I wasn't going to let it go unacknowledged. I went to the thrift store to buy him extra clothes, knowing he couldn’t get too upset if I only spent a little money rather than buying expensive brand new clothes. I knew what size and style he liked, as he was very particular that everything be plain gray, brown, or navy green. A friend of mine was getting rid of an old dresser, so I went and picked it up. I knew if he had declined a drawer of his own, he would certainly never consent to an entire dresser and new clothes.
But it was as much for me as it was for him, and I just hoped I didn’t push him away with my presumption. Neither of us had been looking for a highly committed relationship when we first met as I had been wrapping up my divorce and was gun shy. However, with 2 years under our belt, I was feeling more permanent with him as we inched forward in our relationship. We had two separate homes far away from each other, and our work and family commitments prevented us from moving in with one another. But giving him a dresser of his own so he didn’t have to tote his belongings back and forth made me feel like he was more of a permanent resident. I just worried that he would feel pressured to move faster than he was ready when I presented him with my gift.
I sighed with relief when MacGyver acted appreciative of my gesture. Even so, I backpedaled.
"I wasn’t trying to hint that you should move in with me," I said to him, lying to myself. "I just thought this would be more convenient."
It was almost like I felt I had to apologize for loving him.
"I know you weren't trying to manipulate me," he said with a little smile, as big as was ever possible on his gentle still face. He did in fact use the clothes and dresser, although he never stopped living out of his backpack when he came. I tried to keep on hand the type of toiletries he liked, but he was a true MacGyver, a man of minimal needs who lived like a traveler.
Even his own home was bare and looked as if he only stopped in to change clothes before he moved on. Indeed, it was just a tiny apartment attached to an airplane hangar that he used as a pit stop. It was a classic bachelor pad if ever there was one. For Christmas a couple years later, I cleaned it up from top to bottom and bought pictures, curtains, and paraphernalia in the fashion of a pilot, mostly black and white and very unassuming. I remember I was so nervous that he would be furious about me coming over to surprise him with gifts, especially to decorate his personal space. But I knew that if I offered, he would refuse to let me, and I felt so useless to him, discouraged from adding to his life any material beauty or emotional support.
My own stepdad had been equally apathetic to personal affects and felt such things were frivolous and unnecessary. Like my stepdad, I shied away from pestering MacGyver with signs of affection and tried to sneak in small gestures here and there. I knew, like my stepdad, my boyfriend appreciated what I did, and it was enough just to be acknowledged. But bringing in a dresser with clothes and decorating his home was almost like playing wife, and I was careful not to push that notion too soon.
Silly girl. I was with that ghost of a man for 4 years. During rare occasions, he talked to me about our future and even warmed up to the idea of marriage. But why was I entertaining a life with a man who even needed “warming up” to marry me? Shouldn’t I want a man who was eager to spend the rest of his life with me? What did it say about me if I wanted so badly to have a life with a man who might bolt at the idea?
I treated him like he was fragile, that he couldn’t hack being a husband. I walked on eggshells in order to keep him. But when I stopped to think about it, I realized I was the fragile one. I was too afraid of losing him that I spent all of my energy staying small, suppressing how much love I really wanted to give and receive. I wasn’t protecting him from engulfment; I was protecting myself from abandonment.
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