After I watched Star Trek: Discovery, I really admired the relationship between Amanda and Sarek. Their relationship has made me question the type of relationship I want to have or the type to strive towards. However, now that I have a partner who is very Vulcan-like, I honestly feel like we have developed something similar to Amanda and Sarek’s relationship. I’m also proud that we continue to progresss this way.
The day I met a Knight of reason
Mr. F arrived with a bluntness that would make most people step back but I leaned in. Direct words felt like a handrail after years of uncertainty. There was no guesswork about intentions, no fog about where I stood and clarity quickly started to feel like safety. Over time, I realised his preference for logic was never a dismissal of feeling; it was a commitment to consistency. He spoke in clean lines while I moved in colour, yet, those differences began to form a language we both understood and could actually live by.
Conversation as a bridge, solitude as a balm
Tension rarely survives in a home where conversation is the common ground. We talk first, not to win, rather to understand. Whenever emotions run higher than usual, we step back for a quiet interval, not as punishment or withdrawal, but rather as a respectful pause that lets us return with gentler words. Space becomes an ally while reflection becomes a teacher. After the pause, we come back with softness and the same problem looks smaller because the defensive edges have cooled. In practice, this turns conflict into calibration.
What his logic taught me about pain
There were days when the past felt heavy, especially the hurt left by my ex. He never coddled the pain, yet he respected it. His message, in essence, was simple: do the right thing, be a decent human, stop carrying the weight of other people’s opinions and focus on the life you can build. The lesson landed slowly, then all at once. Calm reasoning did not invalidate my feelings; it distilled them. I learnt that emotions want acknowledgement first, interpretation second and action last. His logic became the lens that kept the picture faithful to reality which meant my steps could be honest rather than reactive.
Love in translation: how reassurance actually looks
Needs are clearest when spoken plainly. I tell him when I need reassurance instead of solutions and he adjusts. Sometimes, he starts with questions while reassurance can seem unnecessary from his vantage point, however, he still tries. His tone becomes warmer, the pace becomes gentler and he checks the situation from different angles to understand me better. There are moments when he says it outright; reminders that I am loved, reminders that I am an amazing and wonderful person, reminders that I matter. The delivery is simple, never embellished, which is precisely why it lands. Over time, consistency starts to feel like a promise rather than a pattern.
Loving through neurodiversity
My Knight lives with both Asperger’s (now a part of ASD level 1) and ADHD and from the start he made it clear that we should love each other exactly as we are. That truth anchors us. His mind is structured, strategic and quick; mine is layered, emotional and shaped by C-PTSD. There are moments when our wiring clashes and this is where his need for logic meets my need for reassurance. Yet, we refuse to turn it into a battlefield. We pause, we translate and we try again. His questions, although direct, come from a genuine desire to understand. My emotions, while intense, come from a genuine desire to connect. It is not always easy, yet, it is always real. Together, we are learning that love coexists with difference when both sides commit to learning how the other’s brain works.
The Knight & the Princess
Our dynamic sits best in a medieval metaphor. He is the Knight: strategic, logical, protective and emotionally loyal, much like the chess piece that moves in quiet L-shaped surprises. He seeks out his Princess when tenderness is required when the armour feels heavy and the world demands more than calculation. I am the Princess when nurture is asked of me; a calm voice, steady presence and listening without rushing to fix. My needs do not vanish inside the castle walls, that is, I say what I want, we discuss how to make it possible and respect becomes the crown we both wear. His care shows up in small rituals such as: safety check-ins when I meet new people, gentle questions about whether my experiences were safe, travel blessings spoken in Hebrew before journeys because his Jewish faith turns protection into practice. These are quiet shields, not grand gestures and they add up to a life that feels held.
What this love is teaching me
Lessons gather in the corners of ordinary days. My needs and wants deserve a voice; silence does not make me easier to love, it merely makes me harder to see. Directness preserves dignity. Emotional honesty does not conflict with reason, however, it enriches it. People love in different dialects, therefore expecting a mirrored response only breeds disappointment while appreciating someone’s native language of care builds trust. Boundaries remain non-negotiable; tenderness never excuses harmful behaviour. Relationships flourish where clarity meets compassion where requests are spoken aloud and where both people keep learning how to translate each other with patience and goodwill.
A note to anyone loving a ‘Vulcan’
Start by listening for the logic beneath the love. Look for care expressed through structure, reliability and protection. Speak your needs without apology, then allow time for translation. Reassurance may arrive without poetic flourish, yet, it can still be wholehearted. Hold the line on what is healthy. Leave room for difference. Celebrate the places where reason steadies you and emotion deepens you. Balance is rarely a perfect split; balance is a living rhythm.
In the end, he is the Knight who guards with logic and I am the Princess who steadies with understanding; together we have built a love where safety speaks louder than words and honesty feels like home.
Mystic Anomanly 