On Being In Love (Alternately Titled: On Being So Effing Happy and Smiling So Much That Your Face Shatters into Tiny Pieces and Then You Hate Your Faceless Self for Being Such a Girl)

(Disclaimer: This could get mushy.)

I am not the kind of girl, internet, who falls in love fast and hard for every guy she dates. But I have been around the block a few times and I have experienced some earth shattering love (and some that was more like saying, “I will pretend to love this guy until something much better comes along, at which time, I will crush his little heart and move on.” I know, it is cruel, but I don’t do it consciously. It isn’t until after it is over that I realize what I have been doing. You know you are guilty of it too, internet, stop frontin’.) My previous relationships have all been significant in some way but they haven’t all been exactly…right. And there are a couple that I won’t even mention because I am still, to this day, trying to figure out what I was thinking…And that’s okay, I think we all know which one is at the top of that list, so…no surprises here!

I’ve always maintained that I am independent and kind of a hard-ass skeptic when it comes to relationships. I want my space and I want to run the show. (Duh.) And usually, that is exactly how it goes. (Coincidence? I think not.) The guys I date normally fall into the same kind of category. Soft-spoken, shy, kind, usually artistic, witty, smart and, most importantly, let me have my way (and it helps if they are tall…just sayin’.) Thing Two fits in here perfectly (not to mention that he is effing hilarious) and I never once noticed. I just never looked at him that way (nor him at me). Which, lets face it, could have been because I was busy making sure that Spliff didn’t do irreparable damage to his ego or it could have been because I was busy having a crush on Thing One. After Spliff ripped him to pieces, I couldn’t see him as anything as “another one of my friends that Spliff treated like shit”. So, I stayed friends with him for awhile and then we just stopped talking. But back then, I saw him like an annoying little brother and I didn’t really care if we were friends or not.

Then we got back into touch. And there was a pool party and a gay bar and then he tried to kiss me and I laughed at him. And now here we are. And I’ve never been happier. And he isn’t the same person he was back then. And neither am I. And there is no Spliff. And we have a really awesome apartment and we share everything. And yes, internet, I love him. Madly. Profoundly. Intensely. And I can’t imagine anything possibly being any better. (Except, you know, if I lost the ten pounds I have gained while being in the “I’m so effing happy” stage of this whole thing…yikes. Rant: Why can’t you LOSE weight when you are super happy? Why do you have to get super fat? Why does everything awesome make you fat? Like mozzarella sticks? Why? End rant.) And honestly, I am excited every day to get to go home to him and every day I am a little less surprised that he is so amazing. And now I just wonder why it took us so long, why I couldn’t have pushed Thing One and Spliffany out of our way and just gotten straight to the good stuff. I guess it had to happen this way for it to work. Because back then he was coming into my room wearing a bra in the morning saying, “Why don’t you take your shirt off and make some coffee?” and now…well, I might actually be doing just that. It pays to be patient. And to think, if he hadn’t had that one last beer after I laughed at him for trying to kiss me, he may not have tried again. And THEN where would we be?

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