Sometimes I expect too much of myself. And very often, I expect too much from my partner. I expect that nothing I do would ever piss him off; that I would never be able to be jealous of someone I love and that he wouldn’t see jealousy as a poor quality on my part; I expect that he would never make me feel un-wanted, not even for a second, ever. I expect that he will cater to my every whim, that we can just lollygag around without the pressures of real life ever getting in the way of our ‘perfect love’.
Expecting too much of a partner is a damaging strain. I don’t want to put someone on a pedastol. I want to love them. But sometimes to love someone is to put them on that high high pedastol without even realizing you’re doing it. When I love someone, my first inclination is to give them more than they ever expected but then be offended when they don’t give me as much as I give them, forgetting that some of the time, we don’t get back everything we give.
I forget that I can hurt someone just purely by expecting so much from them. I forget that someone loves me too, in the same way that I love them. Sometimes I feel like I’m the only one in a partnership who loves, and I’m just decoration on the opposing end of my love for that person. It’s an unrealistic sham. It’s ridiculous. Nobody’s perfect. I’m not perfect. My partner certainly isn’t either.
It’s easy to believe that love knows absolutely no strife, boundless amounts of perfect everything, bliss without any questioning or difficulty. But love. isn’t. easy. I wish it was. But it’s not. And I struggle to maintain this idea that it is, constantly. The world can be an unusually rough place, and love sometimes eases those pains and sometimes makes them greater, or at the very least, just different from taking on those pains alone.
I expect too much. And I need to stop doing that.