Criticism as a Form of Love

As much as it pains me to admit it, my head was completely twisted in knots when it came to love. I didn't know the difference between love and criticism. In fact, I thought that if you criticized me harshly, it meant you loved me. And I didn't even know that's what I thought.

Here's an example.

A week into our relationship, Number Two found an ingenious way to make me open up to him.

He'd already begun making fun of my glasses. As a welfare recipient from Detroit, I was used to picking out my all-purpose, utility frames from the Medicaid rack, and to tell the truth, I'd never given them much thought.

So he'd ask me why my glasses were so big and so out-of-fashion.

And then one day, he announced that he'd thrown my glasses away and that it would be a month before I'd be able to get new ones.

Instantly upset, I started cussing and carrying on.

Number Two calmly and shrewdly, in the midst of my emotional outburst, siezed the opportunity to ask me a bunch of personal questions.

Then he pulled my glasses out of his pocket and explained that he would never be inconsiderate enough to throw away anything of mine and that he just wanted to make me mad because "if I hadn't, would you have shared any of that stuff with me?"

He continued, "You don't talk to me, and that's not good. Communication is a very important part of any relationship."

How did I interpret that?

He truly does care about me.

Instead of being pissed off, indignant or offended, I was grateful. Because only someone who loved me would go through the trouble of making me mad in order to get to know me better.

(Number Two Diaries Part 3 of 8: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 | Lessons Learned Parts 1-3: 1 2 3)