ice (very surprised) meets sunshine

Every Sunday night, a quantum of young people come over to hang out after church.

And every Sunday night, I’m reminded of how much I stink at relationships.

It’s always been this way.

Ever since my third birthday party, and my popularity vanished forever when I wanted ALL my cake, and Mom shared it anyways, so I smashed the other girls’ and was hauled off, screaming.

Because, you see, life is a war, every man for himself, shoot before you get shot, and a friend means a competitor. Watch your own back.

Loving has always been difficult. It’s scary, and makes you do things that my rational mind can’t figure out, and I always run the other way. And hugs are overreacting.

Love seems UNSAFE.

Because the only two people I actually ended up really trusting, both left for someone else.

It’s hard to believe that just a year ago, I told a boy that I didn’t believe in opposites attracting, and that an ideal relationship was made of two people who were the exact same at the foundation, but who’s house plan was just a little different.

It all makes sense, because if you are the same, you know how they work, there are no surprises, so you are SAFE.

He agreed, and I thought we were perfect together, except we weren’t. He was as much ice as I was. And my theory quit making sense.

Then we arrive in Phoenix.

We walk in the door, and before I know it, there’s a blonde girl with her arms around me, hugging me for all I’m worth.

Her name is Dawn, and I’ve only seen her a couple times in my whole life. We’re not even related.

But apparently, that makes no difference to her.

And she stays with me for the whole trip. She invites herself over to spend the night. She sings, everywhere, at the top of her lungs. She laughs hysterically at nothing. She’s everyone’s best friend. I’m sitting on the floor, and she comes over and lays her head in my lap, like, duh, that’s what friends do. She tells me about the guy she really loves, who doesn’t love her back, and probably never will. Vulnerability is practically her middle name, and she dances when ordinary people walk.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone live so hard or love so much.

All the while, my poor ice self is feeling like a polar bear stuck in a desert, blinking in shock. When she grabs me for a giant 30 second hug, I gulp several times and try to act like it’s natural. I have a wild desire to run away and hide.

Does that bother her? Oh, no.

She hugs anyways, keeps singing, and doesn’t give up even when I won’t talk.

And finally, her sunshine melts my ice.

We spend Christmas night together, up talking past midnight, and I tell her things I’ve never told anyone because suddenly, I realize, with her I’m safe.

Safe.

It doesn’t matter that I have a pretty poor track record in relationships. She’ll pick up where I leave off, and I don’t have to impress, or defend myself.

I look at her, loving me without a single good reason, and I realize I can stop trying now. I can be truly Nastya. I can finally stop fighting, because here, I am completely safe.

And I’ve made one of the most valuable friends I’ll ever have, I know.

This is what I really need, I think, and I have been wrong this whole time.

Maybe opposites do attract – maybe the opposite holds a missing part of us that we need. Difference is completion, not just conflict. Maybe fighters need healers, maybe the day needs the night. Maybe I don’t need the dark loner, the mysterious man I’ve always been looking for. Because, well, I AM the dark loner. I don’t need a copy of myself. After all my war, I want someone who is rest, and I don’t have to try, like I have to try to please all those other silly girls with pet peeves and attitudes.

And that’s how we get completed, I guess.

Because a team is best when it’s not two people who think the same, but two people who are different and think together.