The Truth of Where I've Been
So here’s the thing—I met this guy, see, and he has swept me off my feet. You know how you can prepare your favorite meal exactly the same way every time and totally enjoy it every single time, but then someone comes along and adds just the subtlest change and you suddenly realize that where it was great before it’s PERFECT now?
Yeah, well, it’s sorta like that. Only better.
Here I was, loving my town of Portland, loving Emily’s school, loving our household dynamic, loving my job (finally!), moving through my life with love and happiness and joy (less the winter illnesses, but in the big picture those don’t count), and suddenly I’ve added awe and wonder and a different kind of love to the picture. Where before I didn’t know anything was missing, now I am whole. I’m not sure how to describe the feeling other than as fulfilling. It’s like “Oh, there you are! So that’s what’s been missing all this time!”
And oh.my.god. It is Fucking Fabulous!
I love language. Yeah, you already knew that. I love words and their meanings and subtleties. You probably already know that the name Aimee means “beloved”. Do you know that there’s also a male name that means beloved? There is. His name is David. Do I need to state the obvious correlation here? We are each other’s beloved.
But you know there’s a catch, don’t you? Because if there wasn’t, I would have written about it months ago, when it first started, right? You’d have been privy to the disgustingly sweet details from the beginning if there wasn’t a catch, wouldn’t you have?
Of course.
In fact, let’s not do anything simply, shall we? Let’s say instead that rather than “a” catch there are perhaps a few catches… Nothing simple for Aimee. Apparently the universe believes I need steeper learning curves than most people. It’s cool. I can take it. (Or at least that’s what I say out loud when I’m not weeping into my oatmeal.)
Last Thursday was the 27th year anniversary of the first time we kissed. He was my high school boyfriend. I loved him then, too, but without the sense—crap, without the sense god gave a fucking goose. We were stupid and young (and stupid) and in WAY over our heads with each other. Shortly after I moved from Tucson to California in the middle of my Jr. year of high school, David broke up with me. On the phone. That was 25 years ago though, so the details are irrelevant.
Except for this part: After he dumped me, he dated another young woman from high school, one of our classmates. And 16 months after I moved to California, he married her. And he recently left his marriage. And she just found out that I’m his new girlfriend. And it’s not pretty.
Oh yeah, there’s also this—I’m going to spend a week with him in April (mostly to make sure everything is really as great as we think it is), and shortly thereafter I’ll probably be moving again. This time to Tucson.
This Pacific Northwest flower, this rain-blossom, this see-through white girl is contemplating moving to the desert. And NOW you know how serious I am about this beloved, because I can’t imagine ANYONE else in the world enticing me to the climate of Arizona (weather and political).
And that, my friends, is why you haven’t heard from me for so long. I’ll try to do better, but for at least the time being, your time has been usurped by him. And I’m not even sorry. ((grin))
Yeah, well, it’s sorta like that. Only better.
Here I was, loving my town of Portland, loving Emily’s school, loving our household dynamic, loving my job (finally!), moving through my life with love and happiness and joy (less the winter illnesses, but in the big picture those don’t count), and suddenly I’ve added awe and wonder and a different kind of love to the picture. Where before I didn’t know anything was missing, now I am whole. I’m not sure how to describe the feeling other than as fulfilling. It’s like “Oh, there you are! So that’s what’s been missing all this time!”
And oh.my.god. It is Fucking Fabulous!
I love language. Yeah, you already knew that. I love words and their meanings and subtleties. You probably already know that the name Aimee means “beloved”. Do you know that there’s also a male name that means beloved? There is. His name is David. Do I need to state the obvious correlation here? We are each other’s beloved.
But you know there’s a catch, don’t you? Because if there wasn’t, I would have written about it months ago, when it first started, right? You’d have been privy to the disgustingly sweet details from the beginning if there wasn’t a catch, wouldn’t you have?
Of course.
In fact, let’s not do anything simply, shall we? Let’s say instead that rather than “a” catch there are perhaps a few catches… Nothing simple for Aimee. Apparently the universe believes I need steeper learning curves than most people. It’s cool. I can take it. (Or at least that’s what I say out loud when I’m not weeping into my oatmeal.)
Last Thursday was the 27th year anniversary of the first time we kissed. He was my high school boyfriend. I loved him then, too, but without the sense—crap, without the sense god gave a fucking goose. We were stupid and young (and stupid) and in WAY over our heads with each other. Shortly after I moved from Tucson to California in the middle of my Jr. year of high school, David broke up with me. On the phone. That was 25 years ago though, so the details are irrelevant.
Except for this part: After he dumped me, he dated another young woman from high school, one of our classmates. And 16 months after I moved to California, he married her. And he recently left his marriage. And she just found out that I’m his new girlfriend. And it’s not pretty.
Oh yeah, there’s also this—I’m going to spend a week with him in April (mostly to make sure everything is really as great as we think it is), and shortly thereafter I’ll probably be moving again. This time to Tucson.
This Pacific Northwest flower, this rain-blossom, this see-through white girl is contemplating moving to the desert. And NOW you know how serious I am about this beloved, because I can’t imagine ANYONE else in the world enticing me to the climate of Arizona (weather and political).
And that, my friends, is why you haven’t heard from me for so long. I’ll try to do better, but for at least the time being, your time has been usurped by him. And I’m not even sorry. ((grin))
posted by Aimee at
9:30 PM
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