*gushy alert*
I know it's stupid and corny to come on LiveJournal and write a post about how in love you are. I recognize that I am indulging my emotional inner teenager right now. But you know what? I'm gonna do it anyway. You've been warned. You don't have to read this fluff.
I have never felt like this. Never. And I have been in love many times. I am relatively good at getting along with people, coexisting with people, and seeing the good in people. I am especially good at sharing my personal space with people who are willing to snuggle me. But this is different. This isn't just comfortable or easy or nice. It feels like belonging. It feels like we fit together, with no sharp edges to file down. We go together and we don't even have to try, and it seems like the most natural thing in the world that we should be happy together, that we should feel this sense of relaxation in each other's presence. It's hard to explain. It's even harder to understand.
I am almost 33 years old, and this is the first time I have ever been deeply in love with someone who was simultaneously deeply in love with me. I know that's kind of a shitty thing to say given that I've been married before, but Michael and I only kind of loved each other. And we thought that was enough, because we'd never known anything else. But in hindsight, given what I've learned, I can see that we were fond of each other, enjoyed each other's attention, and were committed to trying to make it together. None of that is love. Or admiration. Or desire. Or companionability. Or anything like that. But this is. I admire him, and he admires me, and neither one of us can understand what the other one sees that produces such captivation.
He keeps looking at me and smiling, and I keep looking at him and smiling. I ask him why he's smiling, and he says, "I'm looking at you," and I know exactly what he means, because I find myself doing the same thing over and over again. (I feel less like a grinning idiot now that I know it happens to him sometimes too, so maybe he doesn't think I'm a total weirdo for walking around smiling at him all the time.) I keep trying to find a different way to tell him I love him, because I feel like I'm not adequately expressing the concept. I've told other men that I loved them. But this is different. He says it by telling me I'm precious to him. I've tried that, too. No words ever seem like enough. He laughed when I kissed him last night, and I asked him why, and he tightened his arms around me and said, "I'm just happy. There aren't enough hugs, are there? I never want to stop hugging you." I never want to stop hugging him, either.
Last night when he got into bed, he said, "You should feel special." I asked him why. He said, "Because you *are* special." And you know what? I believed him. I said OK and smiled, and he smiled back and pulled his huggy-pillow into his chest (it used to be my huggy-pillow) and closed his eyes. And I didn't even care that he was taking up more than half of the bed and I got a bit stiff perching on my edge all night, because in the morning I got to look at his face before he nuzzled it into my shoulder and pretended to sleep while Noelle snuggled into my legs.
I do feel special. I get to spend a lot of time with a guy who understands me way better than any of my partners ever have. I haven't been afraid to tell him my secrets and my fears. He says that everything I share with him-even the things I don't like to tell people because I hate that they're in my story at all-makes me more interesting to him. He easily points out what he thinks my current behavior demonstrates about what I've learned from the mistakes I sheepishly tell him about, and he doesn't judge me for them the way I judge myself. At the same time, he carries the burdens of a negative self-image that he created to protect himself from his inevitable failures in a neurotypical world, but he lets me gently pry that apart, pointing out with calm logic the talents and kindnesses and contributions I see in him that he has not yet acknowledged in himself. He listens, and he explains his feelings. And he doesn't shy away from them or from me.
Being with him is like the best possible version of being at home. Being away from him is like the really enjoyable nap in between awesome days at DisneyWorld. I'll rest while he's gone and then we can have more fun when he's back-even if that fun consists of working at our respective laptops or me doing chores with frequent pauses to stop and hug him. He's an excellent model of self-care, the way he pays attention to and manages his needs-and will talk out loud about that thought process. I don't long for him to be beside me all the time, because I know he's coming back. He's always coming back.
And yes, on some level I'm afraid. I'm always afraid. Will this feeling fade? Will he get bored with me? He sometimes says he wonders if I'll get bored with him, and I don't think I will. I don't usually get bored with people. I do get annoyed with them, so that's a possibility, but I can't even seem to get annoyed with him when he does something I objectively find annoying, like leaving the toilet seat up.
I saw him curled up on my red chair like a puppy last night waiting for me to finish in the kitchen and I just kind of laughed. "What?" he asked. "I was just wondering if I will ever become desensitized to your adorableness," I said. "I'm leaning toward no." A full hour later, he looked at me with a shy little smile and said, "You called me adorable," as though it was the most meaningful compliment ever. And I mean, it's just so true. He IS adorable, inside and out. How could he not know that? It's not just the floppy hair over his eyes when he's curled up in a little human ball. It's the way he'll crouch down to hide so he can ambush-hug me, or the way he squeezes me just to hear me squeak, or the way he keeps laughing about ridiculous lines in movies full days after we've watched them.
He's delightful. He's like a little ray of sunshine into my soul. Not obnoxiously lighthearted, not judgmentally superserious, sensual but not sex-obsessed, geeky but interested in the world around him as well as the one in his head. Not after "true love" or trying to force his life into some magical ideal. Just looking for someone to share himself with-like I am.
This one is just right for me. Can I keep him?
Only time will tell. But I really hope so.
I have never felt like this. Never. And I have been in love many times. I am relatively good at getting along with people, coexisting with people, and seeing the good in people. I am especially good at sharing my personal space with people who are willing to snuggle me. But this is different. This isn't just comfortable or easy or nice. It feels like belonging. It feels like we fit together, with no sharp edges to file down. We go together and we don't even have to try, and it seems like the most natural thing in the world that we should be happy together, that we should feel this sense of relaxation in each other's presence. It's hard to explain. It's even harder to understand.
I am almost 33 years old, and this is the first time I have ever been deeply in love with someone who was simultaneously deeply in love with me. I know that's kind of a shitty thing to say given that I've been married before, but Michael and I only kind of loved each other. And we thought that was enough, because we'd never known anything else. But in hindsight, given what I've learned, I can see that we were fond of each other, enjoyed each other's attention, and were committed to trying to make it together. None of that is love. Or admiration. Or desire. Or companionability. Or anything like that. But this is. I admire him, and he admires me, and neither one of us can understand what the other one sees that produces such captivation.
He keeps looking at me and smiling, and I keep looking at him and smiling. I ask him why he's smiling, and he says, "I'm looking at you," and I know exactly what he means, because I find myself doing the same thing over and over again. (I feel less like a grinning idiot now that I know it happens to him sometimes too, so maybe he doesn't think I'm a total weirdo for walking around smiling at him all the time.) I keep trying to find a different way to tell him I love him, because I feel like I'm not adequately expressing the concept. I've told other men that I loved them. But this is different. He says it by telling me I'm precious to him. I've tried that, too. No words ever seem like enough. He laughed when I kissed him last night, and I asked him why, and he tightened his arms around me and said, "I'm just happy. There aren't enough hugs, are there? I never want to stop hugging you." I never want to stop hugging him, either.
Last night when he got into bed, he said, "You should feel special." I asked him why. He said, "Because you *are* special." And you know what? I believed him. I said OK and smiled, and he smiled back and pulled his huggy-pillow into his chest (it used to be my huggy-pillow) and closed his eyes. And I didn't even care that he was taking up more than half of the bed and I got a bit stiff perching on my edge all night, because in the morning I got to look at his face before he nuzzled it into my shoulder and pretended to sleep while Noelle snuggled into my legs.
I do feel special. I get to spend a lot of time with a guy who understands me way better than any of my partners ever have. I haven't been afraid to tell him my secrets and my fears. He says that everything I share with him-even the things I don't like to tell people because I hate that they're in my story at all-makes me more interesting to him. He easily points out what he thinks my current behavior demonstrates about what I've learned from the mistakes I sheepishly tell him about, and he doesn't judge me for them the way I judge myself. At the same time, he carries the burdens of a negative self-image that he created to protect himself from his inevitable failures in a neurotypical world, but he lets me gently pry that apart, pointing out with calm logic the talents and kindnesses and contributions I see in him that he has not yet acknowledged in himself. He listens, and he explains his feelings. And he doesn't shy away from them or from me.
Being with him is like the best possible version of being at home. Being away from him is like the really enjoyable nap in between awesome days at DisneyWorld. I'll rest while he's gone and then we can have more fun when he's back-even if that fun consists of working at our respective laptops or me doing chores with frequent pauses to stop and hug him. He's an excellent model of self-care, the way he pays attention to and manages his needs-and will talk out loud about that thought process. I don't long for him to be beside me all the time, because I know he's coming back. He's always coming back.
And yes, on some level I'm afraid. I'm always afraid. Will this feeling fade? Will he get bored with me? He sometimes says he wonders if I'll get bored with him, and I don't think I will. I don't usually get bored with people. I do get annoyed with them, so that's a possibility, but I can't even seem to get annoyed with him when he does something I objectively find annoying, like leaving the toilet seat up.
I saw him curled up on my red chair like a puppy last night waiting for me to finish in the kitchen and I just kind of laughed. "What?" he asked. "I was just wondering if I will ever become desensitized to your adorableness," I said. "I'm leaning toward no." A full hour later, he looked at me with a shy little smile and said, "You called me adorable," as though it was the most meaningful compliment ever. And I mean, it's just so true. He IS adorable, inside and out. How could he not know that? It's not just the floppy hair over his eyes when he's curled up in a little human ball. It's the way he'll crouch down to hide so he can ambush-hug me, or the way he squeezes me just to hear me squeak, or the way he keeps laughing about ridiculous lines in movies full days after we've watched them.
He's delightful. He's like a little ray of sunshine into my soul. Not obnoxiously lighthearted, not judgmentally superserious, sensual but not sex-obsessed, geeky but interested in the world around him as well as the one in his head. Not after "true love" or trying to force his life into some magical ideal. Just looking for someone to share himself with-like I am.
This one is just right for me. Can I keep him?
Only time will tell. But I really hope so.