and I Love Her

This is A Really Real Love Post

I am in love.

This is a kind of love that I don’t think I’ve known before, it’s so calm and even and slow.  But it is consistently there and unwavering.

At the beginning, I didn’t really know I was falling and then I was in it.  New Relationship Energy is totally a thing, but even that had an amount of calm control to it.  Maybe she was the one keeping things in control, or maybe it’s just history’s lens, or the fog of time that is making me believe there was a semblance of order.

She loves me even though I bring some chaos to the order of it all.

And I love her.

She doesn’t fit me like a glove and she doesn’t match me like a glove, we are two very independent people who just work well together.  Maybe a fork and a knife?  (Which one of us is going to stab you?  Both?  Nah . . .  maybe?)

I’m not used to this.  This, independence while still depending on each other.  This, hold yourself up, but still lean on me.  I’m not used to being my own person and I still waiver, falling into her space and she lets me, until I pull myself back out again.  I’m learning that sometimes, that’s how this goes, falling in, pulling too far away.

She loves me as I continue finding my balance.

And I love her.

The mushy, gushy, touchy, feel-y, kind of love.  Use your words to tell me how amazing I am, kind of love.    Hold my hand and I’ll grab your butt, kind of love.

Love isn’t just a word in our house.  I love her through the dinners I cook and the way I verbalize all the ways she is beautiful to me.  She loves me with her arms around me for cuddles every morning and night and through the countless hours listening and reassuring me over my anxieties.  We love each other with a calm constant communication that hasn’t failed us yet.  We talk, we touch, we have the hard talks while wrapped in each others arms for comfort.

She loves me when I can’t say what’s wrong, and when I say too much.

And I love her.

We don’t have a fairy tale, but I wouldn’t want one.  Those are fiction, bedtime readings, short stories that aren’t meant to last.

We’re writing something longer, something more personal, suited just to us.  We are not meant to meet the needs of the masses.  We are the authors of our own imperfect masterpiece.  Working together we are creating the life that is best for us.  This life will change as we grow, as individuals, as a couple.

She loves me.

And I love her.

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