August 14, 2012

Him.

Oh, Blogger. Never thought you'd be here to know these things. Remember when it was all about that young one who didn't seem to understand what he was doing? Well, because it's been awhile and now he's 'gay married' (his friend's words, not mine) and in an 'open relationship' (again, not my words) I have moved on, too. And as usual, my life does not stop being, as they say on Facebook, complicated. But it's another kind of complicated. I'd say complex, but it does have some level of complication, if we stick to the truth and to the conventional definition of complicated. Yes, it's not what you'd think 'normal', in the sense that you date and you go out, and you decide you want to stick to one guy and you eventually decide if you want to move in with him and all that jazz. This time we still do the dating. As in we go out. And we still decided we wanted to stick to each other, but it's been with our own conditions. Because this is not ordinary romance. It is romantic, though. With butterflies in the stomach, and long walks hand in hand and crazy lunch escapades. And weekends of smiles and laughs and sex. But there's weeks of long texts and short conversations and that desire to see him that makes me understand that he's special. He's special. In many ways. Not only because he makes me feel like there's life in me but because he feels alive in the same way I feel alive. Vibrant, urgent, silly, sexy. It may not lead to Ikea trips and shared bath towels but it does give respite to a living that seemed condemned to suburban despair. And that's where I am now. Sharing a life in quarters. Breathing the air he gives. Living.

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