I'm going to break form here, what form I have, and talk about completely non-writing stuff. Maybe it's because I'm tired. Or maybe it's because I'm feeling a little out of sorts. Or maybe it's just that it's the right time.
This may get a little maudlin. I'm warning you now.
I've never been a real demonstrative person, at least in the way of emotions. Well, true emotions. It's relatively easy to say "I love you, you big idiot" to a friend or even a work acquaintance. Why? Because it's not real. It is, but it isn't. It's something that just rolls off the tongue, the same way a dirty joke or the latest gossip on the latest scandal does.
I'm not going to analyze why someone who writes emotional scenes is to some extent closed off emotional. This isn't therapy. I think.
There's a guy. I know, I know, it always has to start that way (or with there being a girl, but you get the point). He wasn't supposed to be The Guy. Matter of fact, he wasn't supposed to be any kind of guy, other than off-limits--and not because either one of us were involved with others, but for other reasons. But somehow, someway, we went from being non-involved to being involved.
And then we went from that into the L Word. Which really wasn't supposed to happen. It was supposed to be just sex. On both our parts. And somehow everything got twisted.
Two years later, it's still twisted. I don't know if we can ever get it untwisted or if the twistedness is just part of whatever normalcy we have.
We're so unperfect for each other, it's almost like it was planned. He's Republican; I'm registered Democrat ( I vote however the hell I want, but that's neither here nor there). He reads heavy, dramatic stuff or sci-fi things; I have bookshelves overflowing with Nora Roberts, Laurell K. Hamilton, and other such authors. He drinks beer; I drink vodka. Actually, that last one really doesn't have anything to do with it, but I had to throw it in there.
We are unperfect for each other. And yet, it's perfect. He's the only person that I've ever given serious thought to spending the rest of my life with--I mean, beyond the wedding spend the rest of my life with. He's the only person I've wanted to have kids with. He's The Guy.
If I never saw him again, I'd still never forget what he looks like, or feels like, or tastes like. He's as firmly imprinted in my sense of being as breathing is.
He asked me recently why I've never written anything about him, about us. At the time, I said it was because I really hadn't written a lot of that material (literotica.com--it helps me think--don't judge). That's part of the reason.
The bigger reason is that I can't put into words what I feel for him. I'm pretty sure that I don't do a good job of showing it sometimes, either. Again, I'm just not that demonstrative.
So this is me, putting myself out there. This is me, trying and hopefully succeeding in saying how I feel and what someone means to me. This is me.
Next week, we'll return to our regularly scheduled program.