A crazy little thing called Love.
It has been a somewhat noisy day. Those noises (no, I shall not be offering further information) prompted me to ask a certain flatmate what was going on with the ‘friend’ she had over. It’s not often you see the smile I saw. The smile of utter delight that someone has asked the right question, that you can talk about that which you are so desperate to.
“Are you together now then?”
“Well, how did it happen?!”
“Well, I was dancing with another guy at a party. He got really annoyed and we had an argument. Then he said he loved me and I realised that I loved him too. We are in love!”
Seriously, you should have seen the grin on her face. The dancing around my room was quite a sight to see too. I looked upon her like a doting parent, an older sister, a more experienced friend. I remember that. I remember those butterflies, of realising that I had found what I wasn’t even looking for. That feeling of anxiousness and excitement at all the adventures you were about to have together. Ramsey and I sat and listened to her and watched all those feelings come back again.
“I remember that,” we both said in unison. It feels like a long time ago now. We were able to agree on that. We love each other and we love where we are now. Are we in the throws of falling in love? No, not anymore. We’ve been through too much together, even if people don’t think that 2 and a half years is a long time. Gone are the anxieties of letting your guard down, inviting someone into your world and wondering what they will find. I have never been so comfortable with anyone and I wouldn’t trade what we have now to go back to where we were then.
It’s exciting and passionate, just in a different way now. I’m not sure I’ve ever felt so secure in my life, even though we are living in different countries and are essentially leading separate lives. I feel like we’re on top of the world. When he arrived in Germany last week, he said he had a present for me. It was a picture of us kissing at a wedding in the summer. He had mounted and framed it for me and it now sits on my desk here and accompanies all the other pictures of him scattered across my room. Even though we are 100s of miles apart most of the time, it feels like we are closer than ever.
Is what we have perfect? Of course not. What’s perfection anyway? There are things I would change about him and there are things I would change about me. But there is nothing I would change about us.