Adjective: Behaving oddly, or as though in distress, due to being overcome by feelings of love.
Real? I need to know I'm not imagining this. That it is really real. I know I have no reason not to believe its real. And every possible reason to believe it is real. This is not one of my ordinary posts. A romantic, fantastical recap of how wonderful he is and how happy I am and another pretty, exciting jaunt in one of the city's many haunts. No, this is the kind of post that I started this blog for. To be honest with myself. To figure out some stuff. The crazy stuff in my head. The emotions I don't understand. The humanity that won't be still or silent. If you must read on, or even comment, please do not tell me that I'm crazy. That I'm lucky. That I should just be happy and enjoy it already. To take it slow. That people want what I have. That this is what I wanted. That this is what I was looking for. No. No. No. No. I don't want to hear it. Proceed with caution and compassion. Validate my feelings and my thoughts and my fears. Because I feel them. They are there. Whether unnecessary or dumb or destructive or wrong. Proceed with compassion...
Is this real? (I close my eyes and conjure all the moments we have been together. Not how I wrote it or over thought it or tell about it or fantasize it. What really happened. What did it feel like. They are so vivid. The electricity I've felt with his hands on my thighs. The sound of a laugh. A whispered conversation with the lights off. All those moments, from the beginning...)
Thought to invite me but that's just him. He brings people together. We both get our energy from others. Attentive at party. But again that's just him. The consummate host. Locked eyes. Yes, attraction. Chemistry. Kissed me. Said he'd ask me out. Did.
Okay, so interested. At least initially. Why? I'm not so great. But why not, I kind of am. But I am also sort of a mess. But he didn't know that then.
He planned the date and looked great. Later told me he wore his best suit just for me. Kissed me first date. During date. Couldn't wait. Kissed me end of date. Planned second date on first date. Texted me to make sure I got home ok. Said nice time.
Epic dates followed. But that's just wooing right. Could be just excited about someone new. Crush on them. Trying to bed them. Doesn't mean anything real, long-term, emotional. Restaurants. Movies. Museums. Bars. Introduces me to friends. A lot of them. He brags about me: "She's so fuckin smart". Hey says to a buddy at karaoke, "my girl can sing." He sends me orchids on my birthday and while making love to me says: "It's like you're perfect." He dims bright lights because I hate them. He bought me a copy of his favorite book. He reads to me aloud on Sunday mornings from said favorite book and rubs my back the way you would a child. Gives massages. Is not selfish (in any way). Even went hunting in old family albums looking for pictures of us when we were younger. He pulled one out and showed it to his mom and dad and roommate and now keeps it in his kitchen. That time we had dinner and told stories in the dim light, our faces so close, our voices so soft. The play. The hotel. The forgiveness. The patience. Makes me coffee. Makes me tea. Says yes - it happened fast - but yes - we are close.
Why my hesitation? Why a need for reassurance? There are reasons. Don't kid yourself. No one's perfect. Nothing's perfect.
He is not affectionate enough. Not touchy feely. Never pdas. Haven't met his parents. He hasn't met mine. Not substantially meet that is. Sister coming to town. Not meeting her either. Doesn't tell me I'm pretty. Doesn't tell me I'm sexy. Doesn't grab me. Doesn't text me - like, ever. Doesn't email (much) and when he does its laconic and official like I'm a coworker, not a girlfriend. Doesn't spend enough time with me. Tells me not to worry about the future. "I just wanna see where this goes," he says. Doesn't seem to miss me when we're apart. Thinks nothing of seeing each other only every 5 days. Says goodbye to me when we part for a 5 day span like its no big deal. We sleep horribly together. Never slept well once. He is too formal with me. It feels like we're in beginning stages of dating instead of a casual, informal, spontaneous - pair. Stopped walking me to metro or my car on days after. Doesn't call me baby or babe or sweetie or any kind of nickname. Just my name. My full name. Not even the shortened version - which everyone else does.
This is why people get married. It shouldn't matter. If someone stays by you, then loves you, then stays by you. But it does. Maybe so you can relax. So you know for sure. Yes, I've chosen you. Okay? So now you can relax.
When I'm with him my inner monologue is screaming, "I love him, I love him, I love him. I love you. I love you. I love you. Don't tell him you love him." I bite down hard. Grind my teeth clenched so I don't give my secret away.
How can you know? How can know? How? Too soon. Could be wrong. Could be crazy. I know I think too much. I know I over think it. I know you think you know us. He's perfect. This is perfect. I mean it is happening. But I'm terrified. And my heart aches. I can't believe its happened again. Its like a miracle. It's like a curse. It's like a haunting. It's like a test of mental and emotional fortitude. It's like a joy. I know he likes me. Probably a lot. But as to more - am I delusional or is this real? Am I alone in this love? Or am I loved?
Adjective: Exhibiting a lover's yearning.