He Drains Me

Sometimes you hear phrases, but you don't take their full meaning to heart. "Be careful what you wish for, or you just might get it."

To most people, that sounds almost harmless, a cute little warning, nothing more. Why would something you deeply crave ever be dangerous? So, we wish anyway, carefree and hopeful, convinced the odds of it actually coming true are unfavourable. After all, nobody gets exactly what they want without putting in serious work, right? Nobody gets everything they want to have without any cost.

So, what the hell – let people wish away.

It may seem like certain people have everything they want when you're the one looking from the outside. Growing up, my peers always assumed I had everything handed to me. I could just see and feel the shock on their faces when I had to admit that I had never experienced certain things or done certain things. Think of a person who is always surrounded by people but still feels alone. That was my entire childhood.

Don't get me wrong, I was blessed in the sense that every necessity was provided to me. I did not lack anything in regard to that, and I am grateful to my parents for making sure that I never experienced the hardships of life. I couldn't complain.

Maybe in a way, that is our problem as humans. That's something I have seen clearly as an adult. We associate complaints with being ungrateful for what we already have. I had to teach myself that that's not necessarily true. You can have something and still want more or something else entirely. The lesson came late, but better late than never, right?

Complaining is one aspect I am still uncomfortable with as an adult. That was my main mistake with him. I am convinced that, to him, my quietness meant that I was fine with everything that came with him. Meanwhile, I kept thinking my feelings were trivial compared to someone like him. From a young age, he had to fight for everything he wanted and take responsibility for his siblings while still a child himself. How could I, a sheltered princess, ask him to put me first and truly hear my quiet cries?

Occasionally, I would complain, but guilt made me wrap those words in sarcasm. Looking back, I wonder if that made him not take me seriously, or if I simply convinced myself I had no right to have negative feelings when he was the first person who truly saw my loneliness.

It was a simple first meeting, really. I can't say there was an instant connection on my part, but if there was, I was actively avoiding it. After all, we had to work together, and the last thing I needed was to complicate my professional life with something personal. I wouldn't say the meeting was a job interview per se, because he already had the job. It was more of a way to show some kind of clarity as to what the work would entail.

What stands out the most is how silly and unexpectedly sweet it felt. I guessed his age correctly, and he was so genuinely moved by it, as if I had seen something in him no one else had.

"Wait, how did you know that?" he asked. "You're straight on the mark," slightly widening his eyes in complete shock.

I smiled, a little embarrassed. "You just seem like you are carrying a lot on your shoulders. It makes you seem older than you are."

He laughed softly, clearly touched. "No one's ever said that before."

I didn't tell him mine for the simple fear that he might find me young and immature. He had a cigarette on, and I jokingly told him that I hated people who smoke. With no hesitation, he turned the cigarette off right then and there.

On my part, it was something that was completely new to me. Most of the time, I had to argue to be understood or fight for my feelings to be validated. But with him, a simple comment was enough. In that short moment, I felt seen in a way I hadn't experienced before. It both warmed me and quietly unsettled me.

Outside looking in, I can see why someone would assume that it was an instant connection. I let him know that the reason why I guessed his age right wasn't because he looked old – far from it. It was because he looked like he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, a quiet heaviness that made him seem older than his years. It's uncanny how true that turned out to be.

He told me he liked me. I didn't take it seriously. Not only because of the unprofessional line we couldn't cross, but also because I simply couldn't believe someone could mean something like that after such a short time. He suggested that we should hang out some time, and I played along with the idea, laughing lightly, knowing fully well I would never entertain it outside working hours. "Sure, maybe," I responded, not meaning a word of it. I told myself he was just like the other guys who pretended to like you because they think that's what you want to hear.

Lucky for me, I wasn't yet at the stage where we had to interact with each other all the time. His services weren't needed yet. It gave me time to breathe, navigate my feelings, or, better still, avoid the whole situation altogether. But I couldn't lie to myself completely; I saw the difference in the way I treated him compared to the other workers. Our "work conversations" stretched longer than they needed to. We joked easily and were comfortable around each other.

He was always smiling around me.