Lots Of Mush, But No BS

It's a bit hard for me to write about him online. Not because I don't have the words--they overflow, seriously; I could write a treatise on him and how I feel about him--but because it would just sound so damn mushy and starry-eyed and crap. And I think it could come across as naive and fake, as though I am some twitterpated fool due for a very rude awakening when Real Life comes into play.

Not that I don't have my twitterpated moments. I'll admit to that.

I have a friend, a dear friend, who although she is very happy for me and really rather convinced that MTL and I are the real thing, worries that we have rushed things. I can see her point, even though I personally feel we've done things at the right pace for us. Because normally? If this was someone else? Hell yeah, I'd be sitting there going What the hell do you think you're doing???

There are times when I'm also rather insane. In a good way.

(We're going to overlook that little episode back a year and a half ago, okay?)

(No, really. ALL BETTER NOW.)

We openly admit that our story is a crazy one. It's not "normal," though if you can tell me what "normal" is these days I'd be interested in hearing your theory.

But then, "normal" is also boring.

We're also nowhere near perfect. That WOULD be a foolish lie.

Besides, "perfect" is boring too.

We've already been in the trenches a goodish bit, MTL and I. Linear time says we've barely known each other. Seven months, really. Seven months last week since we first started emailing and texting. Seven months yesterday that we had our first phone conversation. Seven months this coming Sunday since our first date.

Yes, really. That's it. Seven months.

It feels like years. And not in the oh my god I've known you forever and you're just a habit sort of years.

(Been there. Done that.)

It's as though there's a part of me that has always known him. There's a core there that formed so quickly that even when surprises do come along (and oh yes, they do come along), there's a deep knowledge that the foundation is solid.

We aren't the same people, though we have huge amounts in common. We are most definitely individuals, with our own strengths and weaknesses and opinions and points of view and interests. But more often than not there's a balance there. Rather than being identical, we're...well, we're like puzzle pieces. We fit into the same area. Our edges click and fit. Our images, so to speak, blend together. But we have our variations. If we were identical, then we'd just be the same piece to different puzzles. Instead, we're our own parts of the same bigger picture.

How else do I say this? How do I explain how even in moments of stress or disagreement or even anger, there's a connection there I've never had before? That there's a sense of wholeness? That every time I see him or talk to him or hug him or lie next to him or even just see words on a screen that he typed from wherever he is--it's like coming home.

You see what I mean? MUSH.

I never knew this is what Love and Relationship was supposed to be. This partnership. This give and take. This solid ground from which the storms of life are faced, not without being moved, but without being broken.

I don't use the name My True Love lightly. It's not just a label I gave him on a whim.

I know not everyone's story is the same. And that doesn't mean they are better or worse than we are. Just different. I also know that seven months ago I met the man with whom I will spend my life, and I am richly blessed. So much more than words will ever say.