Paint Brush Strokes, Perception, & The Monogamy Disagreement

Photo by Dave Miyamoto at Sun Yoga Hawaii.

Photo by Dave Miyamoto at Sun Yoga Hawaii.

I like to think of each of us as our own unique painting. We are most often seen as a big picture, perhaps framed and displayed elegantly. But if one were to study us, the thought and effort of the artist would become apparent. Layers and variations of brush strokes. Some strokes applied more gently, others with heightened fervor. Here, strokes short and precise, while there, the artist’s hand pirouettes with whimsy. These strokes are the fascia of our being. Our passion, our past, our education, our relationships, everything that has gotten us from there to here. They don't just hold us together, they are us.


I made the choice to start hanging out with Daniel again, because I knew that he noticed — and appreciated — my intricacies. He saw my most delicate brush strokes, my details, the things that make me beautiful, and even those that make me ugly. (Click here to read about our first DTR.)

I like to think I saw him fully too, but who can know for certain when you’re dealing with a Gemini?

He was ever equipped with new random facts and relevant information, new projects he was working on, new ideas for my writing, and new places he wanted to show me. It was easy to fall back in step with him, sharing drinks, inside jokes, secrets, and dreams.

I adored the way he perceived life. I had a tendency toward snobbery and a distinct disapproval of all things ordinary and popular; regular holistic hipster problems. He had a way of seeing the relevance and beauty in what society has collectively deemed worthwhile. Sharing his vantage point expanded my heart, my thoughts, and my perceptions for the better.

It was the summer of Daft Punk’s Get Lucky. The song was his never-nudes, lyrical denim never fully exposing silence in his apartment. Somehow I knew that our relationship had roughly the same expiration date as the song’s radio popularity. Or at least I knew that I couldn’t let go until then.

It’s funny how music can weave memories and feelings into the deepest parts of your body.

Even now the lyrics up all night to get lucky whisk me back to the moments when he made me feel I was the only person who truly understood him. He had a way of stopping abruptly mid sentence to lock eyes and say that he LOVED talking to me. It seemed as though he couldn’t help telling me things he’d never shared before. “You're so fun to talk to! Most people can’t follow when I change directions so fast,” he’d say after a stirring exchange.

The words made me feel both special and infuriated. I knew exactly what he meant by people. He meant the two other women he was dating, or more accurately, sleeping with. My insecurity in this arrangement was our only source of contention.

It was a BIG problem actually.

Though I’d put up the physical boundaries I needed, our conversational intimacy still hovered well outside the scope of platonic. I naively thought those physical boundaries set me apart from the other girls.

He was dating them mostly physically and superficially. He was dating me intellectually and emotionally.

Pretty smart if you think about it. It’s like they were oxygen molecules and I was a hydrogen molecule, and together we made water. He was perfectly hydrated, and could avoid catching feelings as long as we pooled, sloshed, and poured together or separately on his whim.

Everything finally came to a head the night before we were going to harvest kalo together. He’d planned a charming date for us to harvest the traditional Hawaiian plant and eat lunch on the farm.

I threw a fit the night before. My discontent with the seemingly wasted natural chemistry and the ambiguity of the relationship's boundaries got the best of me.

I told him I didn’t want to take adorable, muddy, couple-y photos with a man who had no intention of staying in my life. I didn’t want to document memories only to look back on them with sadness and longing.

He said perhaps we should reschedule.

My insecurity was the primary source of mutual disagreement, and as you can imagine, I talked it backwards, forwards, and inside out with my inner circle. After a too many cycles and one friend’s key sentence, things began to shift. Stay tuned!

What do you think? Comment below!

Was my attitude warranted?

Have you ever found yourself in a relationship like this?

Is it just playing with fire to experiment with strong chemistry outside of commitment?

Thanks for reading, make great choices!