Most girls like to hear the words “I love you”, “you’re beautiful” and, when said by the right person, “do you want to be my girlfriend?” It’s kind of just one of those innate facts of life. We drink in those statements and can hold on to them for days, weeks, even months. Yet, today, as I rode in a taxi to visit a friend at a coffee shop, I was the recipient of all three, and my heart was not enraptured by them.
So, in the spirit of Mother’s Day and honoring that person in my life who has most consistently implored me to make intelligent, wise decisions, I want to write a brief letter to my Mom about how I met my new “Nepali boyfriend”, Saney (pronounced “Sonney”) after being in a taxi with him for 22 minutes.
Dear Mother of Mine (Mom),
I dont know how else to say this but as of about 10:45am this morning in Kathmandu, Nepal I have a “Nepali boyfriend” named Saney. Let me guess. You’re probably freaking out right now (valid). And you have many questions forming in your brain about this man and also about my sanity (also valid). I don’t know if I can help the question of my sanity; you know I’ve always been an odd duck. But I want to try to address the question of how I met Saney and who he is so that you can become acquainted with him.
It was around 10:15-10:30am this morning when we met. I was headed to another part of the city to meet up with another squadmate, but before I go on, Mom, I have to explain something. The fact is Kathmandu is the largest city in Nepal with a dense population and confusing street system. …and that seems like an understatement. You can’t simply walk directly from one side of the city to the other in a reasonable amount of time. That would probably take a full day.
So I really had no choice but to take a taxi.
Yep, you got it, Mom. Saney was my taxi driver. Our interaction commenced with us bartering on the price I would pay (sometimes I really care, other times I care very little…today was one of those other times, for whatever reason). After we agreed, I hopped in and we were off.
The beginning of our chat was so normal. “Where are you from?”, “How long have you lived here?”, “Do you enjoy driving taxi’s?”, etc… But somewhere in there, I saw the questions he was asking me take a turn. Small talk and surface conversation shifted into “I am single. Are you single?” And “I am 35. How old are you?” And finally, the pièce de résistance, “I can be your Nepali boyfriend.”
Yeah, I know right? Wow! Really, Mom, it happened so fast. And he was so forward and forthcoming with his intentions, my brain did a panicky sort of thing. This stuff doesn’t happen every day, ya know? (Or maybe you didn’t know that…)
After that, I tried to return to having preliminary conversation about his life and Nepali culture…but he then interjected with pretty-sounding words “I like you? No, I love you.” And then again later with “I think you so beautiful.” I was content to just be friends, but no, he was persistent as I’ve ever seen a guy when he is determined about a girl.
At the end of our 22min taxi ride together, he sealed the deal by asking for my phone number… Aaaand yep, there you have it, Mom. I have a Nepali boyfriend!
…
Ok ok, not really. I assured him I was not interested in him like that and that we were just acquaintances. Neither did I give him my cell phone number (because, like, I toootally have one of those).
But I did learn something about the phrases “I love you” and “you’re beautiful” today that I want to share.
You know, Mom, to a lot of people, I’d be willing to guess the amount of meaning and truth behind those words fluctuates. I admit my own use of those words is sometimes careless and, to a degree, insincere and unjust towards how I really think about someone. I know it really is a crime…. To say things we don’t actually mean.
And my awareness of that tendency in me to speak empty words makes me question when I hear those words spoken by other people or like Saney today. I honestly do not know whether he meant what he said, if Saney really suddenly was struck with what he knows to be love or if he really did think I was beautiful.
I don’t know if he meant that or if he even had just cause to say those things. We were in a car together for 22min, having surface-level conversation. I can confidently say he knows next to nothing about my life.
But you, Mom? Geez louise! You know so much about my life! You’ve known me at my worst and celebrated me in my best and, when called upon, stayed up late listening to me cry over the phone and reminded me of truth and, a most recent revelation of what you’ve done for me, you’ve been sincere in the words you’ve spoken to me.
Words like “I love you” and “You’re beautiful” come at me in full force, Mom. I know you know you mean them. If there were any better, more accurate words you could use to tell me, you’d find them and relay them to me. I hear it in your voice, in your Facebook messages and blog comments. What’s more you’ve SHOWN it to me. I believe your words because of how you’ve been the embodiment of them to me over my 23 years. Such a difference in hearing them come from a man I’ve known for 22 minutes at surface level!
Proverbs 10:19 says “When words are many, transgression is not lacking, but whoever restrains his lips is prudent.”
Now Mom, you may have read this thinking that it’s referring to people who talk too much. And you probably think you talk a lot, but I think it’s getting at something different. I think what the writer is saying here is that carelessness with words invites sin and, for many people, that means using too many words. But if I know anything about how you live life, Mom, it’s that you are not careless. You live with more purpose than almost anyone else I know. And in your words, you are not careless either. I believe this. You say what you mean and mean what you say, whether that takes lots of words or very few.
Thank you for caring for me in the prudent way you speak to me.
Mom, I wish I could show you in-person today how instrumental your guidance, influence and care of my life has been in helping me grow and keeping me on the straight and narrow. But for now, I just hope you know how ardently I mean it when I say…
You are beautiful.
I LOVE YOU.
Happy Mother’s Day (each of those words on the banner described you so well – I couldn’t help but think of you…hope you can read them!)
