about two years ago, i sat on a beach with a boy, my new friend, and her drunk sister. while my friend sorted out her sister, i was engaged in a conversation with the boy.

the conversation was a modern spin on “will you go out with me?” to the tune of “so i’m thinking about changing my relationship status on facebook.”

the conversation went well. so we both did.

the problems were few, and in the two years since, they’ve been few, far between, and mostly superficial when they arise. overall, i’d say that this is the healthiest relationship i’ve ever been in. it’s the happiest a relationship has ever made me.

frankly, it’s the best thing i could have imagined.

but, aye, the rub: i suck at showing it.

“i love you,” i tell him. followed quickly by, “ew, gross.”

i tell him how i feel in secret whispers, then follow them with proclamations that i am “pathetic” and “disgusting.”

if i were on his end, it’d be damn confusing and weird.

the truth is, prior to my first few months in chile, i had no faith that this would be something that worked, let alone be the most functional, happy part of my life. after all, i’d been there before. years of talking about love, and the probability of a future, and how no one could be better fit for me left me feeling broken and angry with the world once all of those words turned false.

i started dating too soon, in some ways. i was going through the anger when jeremy and i started dating, and it never had the time to fade.

when i look back on myself in that old relationship, i really hate myself. those words i spoke make me sick. each one feels like a kick in the gut, a slap in the face, and spit in my coffee.

sure, sure, sure, i learned a lot. and whatnot. and i’ll never hesitate to share what i learned, or to pass judgement on people when i see reflections of myself in their relationships.

but i can’t get that sour taste out of my mouth when i think about how i used to talk about him. so when i hear myself saying those words again — even if i know that it’s different in the best kinds of ways — i feel the need to put a disclaimer on them.

sort of like, “hey guys, we all know this is awesome. but i want you to know that this isn’t the same as the last time. i recognize that things might go badly, so i’m framing these words so that i don’t ever regret them.”

the problem? i don’t even really think things will go badly. not now, after two years, 6,500 miles, and more measurable contentment than i’ve ever had before.

and the number of times i pressed the delete button on those last two sentences pretty much exemplifies the problem. i’ve no idea how to say how i feel without putting a disclaimer on it.

that really sucks.

EDIT: case and point.