Dear Gochi,
I write because I need to understand what love really is. I need to do it in order to carry on in a better way. I find myself drawn to women ever since I was child.
When we were children it was given a different name. We called it a crush. My first crush was my kindergarten teacher. She had long hair. That is all that I remember about her. I loved it when she passed by.
My second crush was actually with me in that same kindergarten. One day the teacher called my mom to ask about her engagement ring. You should have seen my mother’s face when she saw that ring on my second crush’s finger. I was influenced by what I saw in soap operas, I guess. I thought the ring was a manifestation of love. It took me years to understand that it definitely is not.
When I was in high school, I saw my next crush. She was taller than me and she had a warm smile. She loved dancing and Madonna. I loved thinking about her all the time. Later she found out about my feelings. She let me know about hers. She was neutral about “us” and the “possibility”. I remember that in the 8th or 9th grade I got to dance with her. It was one of my biggest moments in the high school era. Then I had to leave for the USA.
Before the USA there was another girl and she was a break-dancer. We met at a farewell party. Suddenly there was a magic between us two. We decided to call each other after the party. My mom was surprised to hear me speak in Russian because I never did at home.
There was a moment when I understood that this relationship is not going to go well because one year abroad is way too long. It was better to stop now rather than painfully delay the inevitable.
In the USA I had only one real crush. She was Ashley. She had blonde hair and her teeth were shining like my training career. Ashley was hard to target. She belonged to a cheerleading group. Those girls were the most adored group of girls in our high school. I danced my way to fame and Ashley noticed me. I never made my move. I never really did. She was waiting for it and she was so into it. I could see it in her eyes. But I was terrified of the idea of approaching. I ended up not doing it.
When I came back to my homeland, I decided to stay away from any potential girl that would come my way. I decided to block myself from all possibilities. And you know how the divine operates right?
It was winter of 2004 and I saw her. I saw her for the first time. It was enough to understand that this story will outlast any other story. Call it a gut feeling. I called it love at the first sight.
It took me one week to find her again. (Accidentally by the way.) I was happy to learn that this girl was studying at the same university. She started noticing me around her a lot. I became her shadow. Call it love hunting. Call it obsession.
It took us 7 years to completely agree on the idea of marriage.
I was 26 when I put the real ring onto someone’s finger. I will not write a lot about us two. I did this job in my second book Ubuntu. Our story is 19 years old. We have two kids. But I understand that love is wrecked under many things. We are still humane to each other and there are no brutal fights. We hug each other at the end of the day but I can tell that it is over. It takes time to admit. It takes time to accept.
19 years is not a joke. She was the only woman in these years. And now I think about this woman. I once heard about a saying:
“If you have to choose between two women choose the second one. Because if you have the second one in your mind the first one is done being in your heart.”
I find this quote misleading. Let me tell you why. First of all, we understand the value of the people not when we are with them but when they are gone. We love them once we lose them. In this way I am sure that a second person comes to our lives to see what is missing. Maybe we are very comfortable with what we have. Maybe we are so used to seeing miracles every day that they cease to be so.
I do not know her. Who is she? Why is she on my mind? I will need time to figure it out. All I know is that it is hard to concentrate on things that need my attention.
Maybe love is always a conceptual thing. It is something that we learned from the world of movies and books. I feel that this new person is out of this world. She gradually teaches me to be less judgmental. I find myself very open minded with her.
She is way too bold. She is way too smart. She is way too much for me. Maybe I am in love with the challenge itself.
Time will show what is what.
Until that time, I appreciate all women that came into my life as separate experiences of crush, love and appreciation. I am thankful because they all shaped me into the man that I am today.
But to man up I need to do one more thing. I need to openly speak with this new person. I need to tell her what I have inside my mind. I am being too nice to her. In psychology people define it as fear rejection. Am I afraid that she will reject me?
Am I afraid that I am deeply involved with her?
As I cruise in this maze of thoughts, I find myself going back to her picture by the window. Where she sits and looks at the mountain view. Nature, silence and her all packed into eternity.
Maybe I am in love with the character that she could be for one of my books. Sabahattin Ali was like that. He used to romanticize his relationships with women so that something would be made out of it in terms of the next literary project. But after careful consideration I see her not as one of my characters. Although she could be the Ayan that I looked for these 7 years.
Ayan is a girl who lost her dad and she finds out about him years later. She has a relationship with a boy who works as a cook in one of the prestigious restaurants. She is confused. Does she love him or is she scared of him leaving her just like her dad?
This boy is mad at her attitude but he is not giving up on her.
For a long time, I looked for a perfect Ayan. I thought about the internal world of such a girl. Universe was very collaborative. Recently I realized that 6 of my clients were such girls. They lost their dads at a young age and had to grow up independently.
She was one of them. I remember asking questions about her dad. Her answers and her feelings were so distant. But then she said something very thought provoking.
“The best thing that my dad could do for me was to die.”
She saw his death as a way out of her earlier life which was not promising at all. Young girls in her community were simply waiting for the marriage carousel in order to jump in for a ride. Ride which would never end.
She lived a completely different life. Successful and confident she was. (At least from the outside.) Women hate being strong. But from my interactions with her I could sense that she loves it. Or she is a master at hiding her insecurities.
She was never at home. Any project at any part of the world would be enough for her to jump on a plane. Why was she so enthusiastic about things that were happening outside of her realm?
As you already understood Gochi, I am thinking too much about this person. Way too much. I’m sensing that one of the trails will take me to a satisfying answer. Maybe she will make it easy for me by doing something in advance.
I resist letting her crush all the foundations that I built over the course of years. Loyalty, trust and partnership. They are not just words for me and you know it better than others.
Maybe she is just a dream and I will wake up soon to understand that it was not real.
Let’s see.
Until that time, I will keep you updated about the matter.
(Taken from the series of 36 letters to Gochi)
