By George…I think I’ve got it: The forgotten art of getting someone.

I have a dear friend from graduate school that is known for her quirks. For example, she scolds me for resting my arm out an open window while I’m driving, for fear if I were to get in a car accident, that my arm would be cut off in the crash. (Her arm is what she would be worried about, not the potential of me having flown through a windshield instead). She brings three overnight bags and a laptop when she comes to stay with me for one night. She embraces the art of cupcake making and her orange cat, Buffy, is considered family. She loves a good 80′s coverband, and loves even more dressing the part; complete with leg warmers, neon t-shirts, and blue eyeshadow. For people’s birthdays, she loves buying “props” to celebrate the day; pins with your picture on it, crowns, pink cowboy hats and/or homemade bedazzled t-shirts. If you ask her what day of the week you celebrated your birthday in 1982, she would be able to tell you in five minutes. She finds the love and life in everything that she does and she is one of the sweetest people that I have ever met. She is one of those friends that you hope finds a nut to her bolt.  A lid to her pot. Or as Phoebe from friends so accurately describes, “her lobster”. 

I discovered the magic of someone “getting” someone else when I met her boyfriend. Here she was, sitting on my couch, rattling on about her family, Buffy’s latest ailment or her most recent pop culture obsession, and I couldn’t help but watch him. I watched him play with her hair, laugh at her stories, and look at her as if she was the best thing since sliced Wonder bread. And it dawned on me. He gets her. Not just because laughs at her stories or goes along with her latest adventure; but he truly gets what she is all about, and he embraces it. I can’t tell you how I knew, it was just a goose-pimpled feeling I got at that moment. And it caused me to look at the other relationships that surround me…Carrie and her husband giggling with each other in the car over a joke that we all told each other over and over in the 5th grade; my friend Julie and Bob still holding hands across the car seat; my brother-in-law John calling my sister by her maiden last name as if they were teammates (’cause they are, and they make a great team!); my mom still thinking my dad is the funniest man that she has ever met and laughing at his dry wit…the list goes on.  It’s these simple things that all add up to one thing; accepting each other for who we are in the beginning, and not setting out to change someone to be who we want them to be for own selfish interests. There are countless of times since that day that I look for couples “getting” each other. Which of course, caused me to look at how my own past has gone.

I’ll be honest; I’ve got my own quirks. I sleep with a teddy bear at night and snore so loudly that it’s been known to wake up roommates and friends at slumber parties. I love physical humor, and can’t help but die laughing a little inside when someone trips on the sidewalk. I like to pop my own popcorn and stuff it in my purse to bring to the movie theatre (also, maybe an occasional burrito or two). I’m not afraid of jumping off docks by doing  a cannonball and walking through vineyards and stuffing grapes into my mouth until my gut aches. I laugh a little too loud and sometimes pee my pants when the laughter gets to be too much. I dance like a jackass at weddings and probably eat too much pizza for my own good. I burp at the dinner table much to the annoyance of my mother (Hey! Compliments to the chef). I flirt with bartenders and grocery baggers. I say my Hail Mary’s every night and go hang with God every Sunday. Family functions involving Pictionary, talent shows and whiffle ball make up a good portion of my favorite memories. I like to go snowskiiing more for the matching outfits and beers in the lodge than the sport. I love black and white movies and re-runs of the Little House in the Prairie. I’m sure there is more that I’m forgetting. I’ve been told by past boyfriends that I’m “unique” or that I’m “something else, alright”. At the time, I took it as a compliment. But I know now that they took my quirks as a threat or something that was less than desirable in a partner. Some would have rather dressed me up as a doll and have me sit at a function (joke-less and humorless) nodding my head and sipping my wine like a lady while we bask in their own glories. As nice as that sounds, for those who “get” me, they know that I always have something to say, and better yet, they want to hear it. And that after particularly long days at work, I gulp my wine, I certainly do not sip.

It’s not that I’m dogging these guys; they will (or have) found someone that is a lid to their pot. But for me to try to be someone that I’m not for them, well, that was a hard lesson that I had to learn too many times to count. Sure, I heard “I love you” from these guys, but what did that really mean? What did I mean when I said it back? I’m sure that there was love to be found somewhere in there. But where exactly is what I ended up scratching my head about. Cause here’s the thing; when someone looks at you and says “I love who you are”, that should be considered a better start than those three little words that we think makes our hearts melt.  Saying that you love a person for who they are is the first step at “getting someone”. If someone can take your head in their hands, and genuinely look at you and say “you’re awesome!” or “Leah, I get you so much, I can’t imagine someone not getting you”, well my friends, that’s not something you necessarily can walk away from. Because when a person not only embraces all that they see in you, but also nods their head heartily in agreement when you crank up a certain song, or laugh at a certain part in a movie, or people watch with the same trailer of snarky comments running through both your minds…well, by George, I think I’ve got it.

I consider myself lucky. I’ve had some romantic moments; dinners on the ocean, fancy dances and receptions where I’ve been told how “nice I look” (NICE! I spent all this money and I look nice????), quiet, slow romantic walks where the silences meant more about what wasn’t being said in our relationship than what was good about it, and rowdy weekends filled with fun and frivolity only to know that’s all it was really about in the first place. But romantic moments to me are no longer about the expensive meals, the candlelight and summer evening walks. Sure, the ambience helps. But romantic moments can be just as simple – and mean a hell of a lot more - as the huge genuineness of his smile lighting up the room when I walk in, an eagerness of anticipation after a long drive and the giddiness of the first hug when he hurries to get out of the car, his laughter at my  jokes and mine at his, long talks that are more than just “about nothing” but always about something, and the excitement of sharing with each other what we both know the other sincerely wants to hear about – whether its about our day, our weekend or just about how we look at life. He gets it. And perhaps its about me getting him, too. I can’t describe it; for once, it’s hard for me to put into words how you know someone gets you. I don’t know, maybe it’s the silences that are no longer awkward, the talks that are no longer forced and the glances that are not about lust but about something  richer. What the heck do I know. I mean, how long did it take me to get to this realization? It’s shameful, really. But the good thing is, now I know. If you are your true self, the art of someone getting you is no longer lost. Instead, it’s waiting to be discovered; and someone will always be that much more eager to discover you.

Never hold back what you have always been yearning to reveal in the first place. The mirror will always tell you the truth. And so will those who you’re brave enough to show your true reflection to. Shine on!

“When you look into a mirror
Do you like what’s looking at you
Now that you’ve seen your true reflections
What on earth are you gonna do” -Dave Matthews Band

Copyright 2011, Leah A. Flynn