What's a happy day?

I keep going back to this one day.

I planned for months to make Erik an Advent calendar. In Europe, they usually have chocolate Advent Calendars- every day, you open up to the same or different types of chocolate. While we were in Leipzig, one of our friend's girlfriends gave him a homemade one, elaborate with its beautifully wrapped presents for every day of December.

As I sat alone in Chicago over a long 2-month holiday with the family, I contemplated what I would put inside mine- and how to make it. I settled easily on a variety of American candy, his favorite sauces, and other things he missed from the US. And, after a while, I decided that a Christmas tree shape would be the most suitable.

The day finally arrived- December 1st- to assemble it in his apartment. I arrived at 9 am, waiting in the snow for him to leave (as the Christmas tissue paper slowly got destroyed by rogue snowflakes), finally calling him only to find out that he was not indeed leaving at 9 that morning, but 10 (his attendance became more and more questionable as the internship went along). Fine. But I was stuck. I called one of the roommates, and managed to make it into the building, where I set up camp on the 2nd floor. But, one roommate decided that was ridiculous, and ushered me into her room to wait until he left, bringing me coffee and distracting him.

But he didn't need distracting. He sounded overjoyed- they were singing, playing guitar, and chatting over breakfast. He got in the shower for a long, long soak (over 20 minutes- something I have never seen before) and he was singing the entire time. His step was sprightly as he raced past the door I was hiding behind, rushing up the stairs, grabbing his things, singing all the while. He went out, came back, went out, yelling, laughing, shouting as he went. It was the first night in a while that he had been alone, without me, and he sounded well rested, and jubilant. Never, in all the time we've dated, was he so exuberant, so musical, and so long in the shower! -I didn't know what to think.

Then I look at my feelings on that day. I was feeling shocked, surprised, and empty as I sat there, listening to his happiness, me silently waiting behind closed doors. I felt silly, thinking back, because my entire day was predicated upon his excitement at my gift, my glee and exultation that day was heightened only in anticipation of his recognition, of his happiness, of his acknowledgement of my hard work, and his gratefulness. I was not disappointed- and even burst out crying because his reaction was better than I had hoped for. But that's what I wanted- I desperately needed a reaction from him, I needed him to see what I could/would do. But I felt empty again after giving it, as if everything had gone into that little lopsided Christmas tree, but it couldn't resuscitate something that was missing all along. My dignity? My independence? Love enough for myself and from others without needing his final approval?

And then, I look back on his overwhelming happiness that morning. Is he not acting like himself around me? Is this the true Erik, that gets stifled when his room is filled with two?

I talked this over with my sister this morning, trying to eke out the reason. He loves his roommate Anna, something that used to bother me. He told me at one point that sometimes she is easier to talk to than his other roommate, that she actually complains, because life isn't always beautiful, because she can empathize. But we (he and I) never seem to empathize about the same things, we never seem to feel each other's pain. They have more in common, I think- they spend their free time similarly. I have more in common, I sometimes feel like my heart is being seen more clearly by others. This goes back to my previous post- are we not trying hard enough for each other? Are we not being honest enough about our insecurities, about our passions, so that the other can only compete, but not really fit into the picture? Are we too competitive for each other, and are better as friends? Would he be happier if I played guitar like he does, if I enjoyed sitting around for 6 hours and playing/listening, if I knew more movies and we shared on that account? Would I be happier (in this relationship) if he talked more about his feelings, if he wanted to explore more with me, if he recognized my music and took an interest in it?

It also goes back to the question I keep asking- would we be friends if we weren't dating? He partied a lot more last year- he was more of a night owl. But, we still saw each other alot, studied in Starbucks, both enjoy wandering around stores- would we have found that connection if we only bonded over a somewhat shared past and a similar sense of humor? Would we be together, would we have found each other eventually, if we didn't at the beginning? It's hard, impossible, to look back and guess, but it makes me wonder if we wouldn't be happier if we were more supportive of each other because we had more similar interests, than the competitive spirit dividing our attention to the other's strengths, or the incommunicable wells of feelings, inscrutible to the other, dark and misty and uninviting, but open to another who can understand those caverns better?

Opposites attract, but sometimes a little more common ground would be nice.