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Falling in friend is …
… a rush. The rush of a stage dive or bungee jump (I imagine), of falling knowing (trusting) that you will be caught and held before you crash, of knowing where that limit is, but still …
… it is as exciting and consuming as any crush. Checking to see if they're online, hoping that they've noticed that you've responded to their post, or that they've responded to yours, that you haven't made an idiot of yourself in front of them, that maybe, just maybe, they might feel in return some of the same …
… unconditional compassion, and care for. Trust and belief in. Something like …
… love. Not "something like" love. It is love. Unconditional, yes, but with a completely different set of bounds and expectations to what we usually mean by "love" in the Anglosphere. And that is …
… something new to me. Oh, I've fallen in love before, harder and deeper. But that's kind of the point. There's something precious about knowing "this is what it is going to be" before letting go, before letting the feelings well up and surround you. About not having to question what it is or what it means or where it's going.
Look,
When we start thinking about different ways of being under the asexual umbrella, we quickly realise that allonormative "attraction" covers multiple modes. The typical split is "sexual" and "romantic" (hence "ace" and "aro") but there's sensual attraction and aesthetic attraction. And platonic attraction. The "I want to spend time with this person for none-of-the-above-in-particular" option. Yeah, they might be pretty, or you could imagine being romantic with them, but that's not why you are irresistably drawn to them.
When I've felt like this about someone before, there's always been an equally strong component on one of the other axes, drawing me in to a sexual or romantic relationship. To not have that is … freeing.
It shows me, maybe, how to love myself in the same way.
It fills a hole in my life that I didn't understand existed, because as a society we've lost sight of it.
If you believe in Dunbar's number. Or something like it.
A couple of years ago, when I was working on trauma and stuff I found Meg John Barker's take on it. And I'm not sure how much of it went in then, because it wasn't really why I was reading them. But
stuck with me as I thought about how much I'd let my life become like this, unfairly loading Everything on my One True Love while further distancing my friends, to the point where I questioned whether they'd ever been friends in the first place.
Because in reference to the "healthy Dunbar"
(ignore the "inner parts") I didn't know if I'd ever had any "good friends" who weren't also "close people", or "close people" who weren't also partners, and those maxed out at 2. Maybe I did have, do have, "good friends" I have pushed out to "friends". Point is, that inner hole, that gap, was there. Always had been.
Always had been an ache of the missing I didn't know was missing. Because I didn't know how to let anyone that close to me without them falling all the way in.
Because I didn't believe anyone would want to.
Then I broke. How and why isn't relevant here. But people reached out to me. And in that mess, one hand lifting me, and another, telling me I was worth saving. Reaching in from out in the "friends". Being in that gap in my life.
And as they reached to me, I started falling to them.
Falling in friend.
Thank you sweetie.
… a rush. The rush of a stage dive or bungee jump (I imagine), of falling knowing (trusting) that you will be caught and held before you crash, of knowing where that limit is, but still …
… it is as exciting and consuming as any crush. Checking to see if they're online, hoping that they've noticed that you've responded to their post, or that they've responded to yours, that you haven't made an idiot of yourself in front of them, that maybe, just maybe, they might feel in return some of the same …
… unconditional compassion, and care for. Trust and belief in. Something like …
… love. Not "something like" love. It is love. Unconditional, yes, but with a completely different set of bounds and expectations to what we usually mean by "love" in the Anglosphere. And that is …
… something new to me. Oh, I've fallen in love before, harder and deeper. But that's kind of the point. There's something precious about knowing "this is what it is going to be" before letting go, before letting the feelings well up and surround you. About not having to question what it is or what it means or where it's going.
Look,
When we start thinking about different ways of being under the asexual umbrella, we quickly realise that allonormative "attraction" covers multiple modes. The typical split is "sexual" and "romantic" (hence "ace" and "aro") but there's sensual attraction and aesthetic attraction. And platonic attraction. The "I want to spend time with this person for none-of-the-above-in-particular" option. Yeah, they might be pretty, or you could imagine being romantic with them, but that's not why you are irresistably drawn to them.
When I've felt like this about someone before, there's always been an equally strong component on one of the other axes, drawing me in to a sexual or romantic relationship. To not have that is … freeing.
It shows me, maybe, how to love myself in the same way.
It fills a hole in my life that I didn't understand existed, because as a society we've lost sight of it.
If you believe in Dunbar's number. Or something like it.
A couple of years ago, when I was working on trauma and stuff I found Meg John Barker's take on it. And I'm not sure how much of it went in then, because it wasn't really why I was reading them. But
stuck with me as I thought about how much I'd let my life become like this, unfairly loading Everything on my One True Love while further distancing my friends, to the point where I questioned whether they'd ever been friends in the first place.Because in reference to the "healthy Dunbar"
(ignore the "inner parts") I didn't know if I'd ever had any "good friends" who weren't also "close people", or "close people" who weren't also partners, and those maxed out at 2. Maybe I did have, do have, "good friends" I have pushed out to "friends". Point is, that inner hole, that gap, was there. Always had been.Always had been an ache of the missing I didn't know was missing. Because I didn't know how to let anyone that close to me without them falling all the way in.
Because I didn't believe anyone would want to.
Then I broke. How and why isn't relevant here. But people reached out to me. And in that mess, one hand lifting me, and another, telling me I was worth saving. Reaching in from out in the "friends". Being in that gap in my life.
And as they reached to me, I started falling to them.
Falling in friend.
Thank you sweetie.
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