In January, necessity dictated to separate my inlaws, the One Eyes, for a few days. Ole One Eye had a follow-up appointment for his eye extraction, and Mrs. One Eye was hospitalized ostensibly for irregular sodium levels. Mister Hombre’s youngest brother took Ole One Eye to his home because he lived closest the eye clinic.

During the visit, Ole One Eye mentioned he would like to visit the new aquarium. His son offered to take him on the day of the appointment, but Ole One Eye said, “No, I could never do that. I couldn’t go without your mother.” He said it with the implication it would betray the sanctity of the marriage.

Their commitment is unquestionably solid. They are each other’s best friends and confidants. Their world is small and they don’t have much room for anyone who isn’t bonded by blood nor do they embrace diversity. I admire their emphasis on family, but my needs are not confined so tightly. The One Eyes’ influence over their sons’ approach to relationships is unmistakable. Their sons are attentive, and damn close to smothering.

My Mister is thoughtful, whether I require it or not. He has a sweetness about him; he wants to be my everything, the only one I need. I appreciate his desires, because I do need him. His sensitivity has been uncharacteristic of most men I’ve known, but it isn’t an adequate replacement for the company of women or friends outside family.

I’ve treated the blogging thing with kid gloves in regard to him. He doesn’t quite understand why it’s been so important, though he’s tried. He’s intrigued by it, and I worry he is a little threatened by it. He is mystified by my desire to interact with people who extend beyond the realm of my experience. I’m not a sociable creature until I get to know you, really know you. What better way to study a person’s self than to strip away the cosmetic trappings, the social status, the geography, and the accent.

Our last day in Chicago, we had a scheduling hiccup and missed a free John Mayer concert, and a few other details slipped through the cracks as well. I didn’t concern myself with missteps, because I was trying to be fluid about the trip and overcome my obsession with planning. For the first time in months I was caught up in enjoying the moments, the moments with him. He looked at me and said, “I bet you’ll have a better time when you come back to Chicago and meet your friends.” I felt like crap. As usual, I’m not explaining my different needs adequately. I get so god damn tired of explaining myself.

I don’t blame him for feeling that way. Because he does, I worry that I’m inadvertently sending out mixed signals. There’s no reason he should feel threatened. It’s a different need, not some sort of relationship debacle where one of us falls short.

There’s no reason for competition. Two sides of a coin don’t compete, they coexist. These are two separate elements filling two different voids.