Just a warning now: This post is going to be disgustingly mushy. This is your chance to click away. Check out the blogroll to the left- Aunt Becky at “Mommy Wants Vodka” has some great stuff up from this weekend.
But seriously. I want to write about this because it seems like the ridiculous, starry-eyed phase of being with someone is over all too quickly, replaced by the more “comfortable” relationship part. Maybe that’s just me, and part of the reason why I’m not married yet.
I was struck by this thought yesterday after spending the day with Army Boy. We did finally get to the Renn Faire (I had my ninja on standby in case the Queen did try any funny business. And though I caught Army Boy miming “call me” to Her Majesty once or twice, it went off without a hitch. He claims that was for my benefit.). It was an ideal day- the weather was warm without a cloud in the sky. The faire wasn’t too crowded, which made it easy for us to explore and interact with the various characters. (Christopher Marlowe is going to write a play about us, by the way. And Jack Sparrow, while a total anachronism, is a hilarious addition to the cast, came staggering off the pirate ship and offered me some booty. Yes Please?)
As we walked around, we were positively stupid-happy. You know, the time when you can’t stop grinning at each other for five seconds? We were that couple that you see out in public, and are momentarily jealous of because you can see they’re in La-La Land… and then you judge them and tell them to get a room because it makes you feel better to be hateful for a second. Don’t lie, you think that. I’ve thought that too many times to count.
I have never claimed to be remotely mature or perfect.
The day went by way too quickly, and before we knew it we were on the way home, trying to decide the best way to end out the weekend. (not THAT you pervs)(What. You think I don’t know what you’re thinking?)(All 3 or so of you) We ended up on the couch in my living room, just talking and kissing 90 million times. That’s what you DO in the beginning. Because not kissing the person is far more difficult than doing it.
There’s all the other fun stuff too… missing the other person approximately 10 minutes after you’ve left each other. And the “firsts” for everything. First time holding hands, first kiss, first picture together… I know, it looks silly written out like that. But when you seriously date someone, you’re adding to the story of your life, creating a separate chapter dedicated to the two of you. Even if it doesn’t end well, those moments are still distinct plot points that you can look back to with crystal clarity. Really. Can you remember your first kiss with each of the people you’ve dated? I can.
And there’s the slight insecurity of a new relationship. The feeling when I sometimes forget that I’m “in a relationship” now, and then remember and it’s surreal. I’ve been self-sufficient for so long, and it’s odd to become “part of something”. It feels good to know that I’m past the point in my life where I need a guy to make me feel ‘complete’, and now I’m having the opposite problem- letting go of control just enough to know if I can trust your heart to someone else. That secret fear that maybe he’ll leave one night and realize that I’m not good enough, or it’s not making him happy.
While Army Boy and I were spending time together last night, I was struck suddenly by a memory of my last ex, Jazz Guy. Not so much a specific memory, as I was trying to remember the last time I felt intoxicatingly happy with him. The time that comes to mind was a trip we made to his parents’ house on Long Island approximately 3 months after we’d started dating. I feel sorry and slightly ashamed of that… Should I have recognized it when the glow started to fade, or two months later when talking about an engagement made me frantically change the subject?
It makes these early days of a relationship that much sweeter- knowing that in some cases, they don’t last and you’re not able to put yourself back in that frame of mind, no matter how hard you try. So while I may still be at the point where I’m unable to find anything wrong with Army Boy, there may come a time when his FRECKLES WILL BUG THE SHIT OUT OF ME AND STOP CUDDLING ME GOD I NEED SPACE!
Or maybe, just maybe that day won’t come this time.