36. If I Make It Through the Night
The text came in out of nowhere — a message from someone I’d barely spoken to in years.
“Hey. I’m sorry if this is out of the blue… I may not have a lot of time left.”
By the second line, my chest was tight. By the third, I was already halfway out of my mind with worry. I was ready to call in to work, ready to drive wherever I needed to go if it meant getting to him before he did something irreversible. It didn’t matter that we hadn’t been close in years. It didn’t matter that our lives had only recently re-crossed paths. My instinct was immediate and absolute: go.
Later, I learned he wasn’t saying goodbye. He was sick. He might need a kidney transplant.
The relief hit, but it carried company: frustration, confusion, and something else I didn’t expect — a flicker of pride I didn’t want to admit to. Because buried inside his message, amid the fear and apology, was a confession: “You’re the person I compare every woman to.”
It’s a strange thing — how even in a moment meant for gravity, our hearts can seize on flattery. I’d be lying if I said that line didn’t echo in me for a while. It’s both embarrassing and telling: how words can still slip past my reason and nest somewhere soft and foolish.
There’s a part of me that loves my own instinct — that I would drop everything, that I would drive through the night for someone I’m not close to, that compassion can still override all caution. I am grateful that my heart has not grown cold.
But there’s another part, a quieter, watchful part, that scorns how easily I can let affirmation blur into validation. How quickly I can start weaving meaning out of words that were probably written in fear or nostalgia rather than devotion. I know my love language makes me susceptible to that kind of intoxication. Words of affirmation have always been both balm and bait for me.
And so I’m left sitting in the tension — proud of my heart, wary of my ego. Thankful that I’m not numb, but aware that I still crave being chosen, even when it’s misplaced.
I don’t know what his future holds, or if he’ll ever reach out again. But I know what the moment showed me:
That goodness and vanity can coexist in the same heartbeat.
That selflessness isn’t always pure, and affection isn’t always innocent.
That being human means learning to hold both truth and tenderness without letting either consume you.
- Cheesecake
