“Do you feel appreciated and special?”
A deceptively simple question, but not for the insecure. Sure, I felt appreciated. I got hugs and compliments on my contribution to the dinner. Been told it was good to see me. But special? I’m not special, the little weasel in my head whispered. So I shrugged.
“You are special, you know.”
A statement, not a question this time. I probably blushed, I definitely looked away. But a leg stayed pressed against mine under the table. The goodbye hug included nails dug into skin, tight squeezes, a swift kiss, and pulled hair. A stumbling luv you, that had to be spelled out, we’re not There, yet.
I did feel special, heading out that door.
Back home, my two boyfriends do their best to make me feel loved, appreciated, and valued. Time spent, conversations had, affection showed. They want me to feel that I am special to them, too. It’s just not a word they have used. And it felt strange in my head. On my tongue.
A writer with a thing about words, imagine.
Special. We’re all “special little snowflakes.” But not in the way that has come to be used. Each one of is an individual, unique in our own way. We are important to the people in our lives. Each in a different way. This isn’t about the masks we wear, but about the part we play in the lives of others.
To one, I am a service sub and girlfriend. I help him run an organization, I support him while he runs another. I am a part of his family, and help with the pets when needed. I go to weekly poly family dinner. We occasionally play HPWU and other games together.
To the other, I am girlfriend and sounding board. He bounces Battletech plans, stats, and mechanics off me. We have political discussions, bouncing around the latest videos, discussion, and troubles. He’s new to poly, so talk about tools, issues, and communication. We have date nights, we eat together, and relax together.
We are special to each other for the special things we bring to the others’ lives. But I don’t often “feel special.” I just feel like me.
