The need equation

I think one of the reasons Nick and I get along so famously is that we both lean on each other about the same. It certainly can’t hurt.

He brings me coffee and cleans the litterboxes and there should really be another sweet gesture in between those two.

And I … well, I make things pretty and can find stuff easily.

On a health level, he helps me with my shots, and I get him through low-blood-sugar episodes.

I know it won’t always be this way, this near-equality.

There’s this so-so movie, Love and Other Drugs, that rang true for me on a couple of levels, and particularly on this topic.

The backstory: Boy sells drugs (the legal kind). Boy meets girl. Girl has Parkinson’s. Boy falls for girl, and she him. Obstacles arise. Girl leaves boy. Boy chases after her. Cue credits over some banal, catchy music.

Her reluctance to continue the relationship is rooted in my biggest fear:

“I’m gonna need you more than you need me,” she despairs.

“That’s OK,” he says.

“It’s not fair,” she insists.

I see her point.

Sure, there are going to be times he is the stronger one. Those might be sustained.

I worry about putting so much on him, on overwhelming him with my neediness.

So far, he’s been every bit the wonderful caregiver.

But it’s not fair. Not for him, even if he’s doing this willingly.