Book of Love
There is no more wonderful feeling in the world than learning to love someone; getting to know someone, their facts and figures, their flaws and feats, and finding where you fit in their world.
There is nothing more beautiful than watching very, very, bad anime with women who never wear pants, but have rocket-propellers attached to their legs, and bad Skinemax porn late into the night with someone that makes you laugh.
There is no more smile-inducing moment than waking up in a bed far too small for two, holding hands with your head resting on that person you fell asleep on while watching Fight Club.
There is nothing more warming than grumbling that you're going to get up to turn the television off because the same damned episode of Futurama has been playing for five hours, just to be enveloped with arms and legs and a whispered "I love you, too," before you've even sat up, forcing you to just go back to sleep and give up.
There is no more glorious feeling than catching your lover watching you, with a half-smile, rather than the movie that had been insisted on and being kissed instead of sheepishly turning away.
Lens just came home from a wonderous two days at Evan's place.