Not my favorite first.

So, at 5 1/2 months, I think we had our first fight tonight. Sort of. I also think it wasn’t really a fight, so much as an unintentional tiff, but I guess I still had some blaming to do and he still had some defending to do. I then decided to stay out all night and drink (I guess it doesn’t count as a method to forget if you buy yourself a glass of Glenlivet Nadurra) until he left my brain, but he never did. And I wouldn’t forgive myself if I didn’t try to make amends when I got home. So I did, and we’re fine, but I’m still a little sad ’cause (a) it happened at all, and (b) I can’t end the whole thing with a hug and a real feeling like it’s nothing and we’re good.  ‘Cause really, it was nothing. I was still cranky about being alone all weekend, and he wasn’t done defending why he didn’t need to be here three times in one week, especially when I am planning on going home in three days. He’s right, and I knew it all along. But it doesn’t change what it makes me in fear of for the future. I hope it comes up in person, ’cause I really want him to understand why this little tiny insignificant thing made me shut down for two whole days.

In the end, I spent an entire night trying to be someone else, trying to forget him (or not, considering my drink of choice), and the only thing I could do was wish he were with me.  I will never spend another day in my life thinking about anyone but him.  He holds my heart and my soul, and even though I didn’t say it yet today, he’s perfect and I’m the luckiest girl in the world.

I love you, Stefan Gaudio.


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