Trade?

So, universe, what did I do that pleased you? Please let me know, so that I can do more of it. I’d hate to think it’s as painfully simple as trading one man from my life for another. Because, really, I lost two, so I should get at least one back, right? *sigh*

I may have spent the last few weeks mostly in NY, but these past two days here in Philly were two of the best yet. Truth be told, getting back into school was a little more difficult than I had anticipated, and I’m still not fully in it, but (thanks to Phil) I keep telling myself I want/ed to be here. Really, I do, and I don’t want to lose sight of that for one second just because I’d rather spend 100% of my time squeezing Stefan.  I won’t, and not just because spending 100% of your time with one person is a terrible idea. I didn’t apply to Post because I got into La Salle for a reason, and learning to spend four or five years in a long-distance relationship (provided PA doesn’t become more attractive in the future to my dearest) seems like it might make us appreciate each other even more, if that’s at all possible.

It’s the simple things: blogging as I’m watching Doogie Howser, M.D. after having a conversation about it being the first “blog” (which followed a much more meaningful conversation about reading my blog).

Simple things: finding so much pleasure in row after row, room after room, and floor after floor of antique books (things that would have made Charles happy seem to make Stefan exceptionally happy).

Simple things: dinner down the block-burgers, wings, beer and live music.

Simple things: watching impressionists on the internet, and somehow liking shows like Gold Rush: Alaska despite next to never opting to watch something like that when alone.

Simple(r) things: “you’ll get over it” as a response to my smoking the last cigarette in traffic, and “I’ll get over it” seconds later, after he tossed the empty pack out of the window of the car. (You had to be there. Like the “Whispering Woods” thing.)

Simple things: driving in a Venn Diagram just to get to the Salvation Army to drop off my ex-television.

Simple things: learning what he likes by watching him wander around a pen show or book store, ooh-ing and ahh-ing at his favorites.

Simple things: laying in bed. That’s all, just laying in bed together.

He let me cook breakfast, twice, pretended my cookies and coffee were good, and let me talk about all the silly shit that makes me nuts (like the whole cooking thing-suggesting something different and explaining the difference is exactly the way to do it, instead of standing over me and telling me what I’m doing “wrong”). Anything that has ever made me frustrated or upset or has made him annoyed or confused gets talked about, and I’m excited that I’m slowly getting more comfortable talking about how things make me feel and why. I used to have to do that stuff on my own, but knowing there’s someone who wants to hear it and won’t judge me but will actively utilize the knowledge as well as explain potential alternatives, is an absolutely amazing feeling. As I said earlier, I’ve never been in such a healthy relationship, and as I jotted down in my new Rhodia 2011 planner tonight, I’ve never loved anyone this way or this much in my life.

So would I trade this for anything else in the world? Not a chance.

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