How did it start with you?
A study sesh?
A cup of coffee?
For me, it’s been a plethora: Witty arguments about the Flash over Superman, whether cheese is originally a solid or a liquid; whether Springsteen is the Boss or not (and, trust me, he is). It leads to walks. Cups of coffee (that you end up never paying for). Lots of texts. Intimate talks of family, fears, weaknesses, and dreams… followed by dreaming of the future together.
Secrets are whispered into the late night with hope they will never end, because when they do, it’s known they should’ve never carried on that late in the first place. His voice becomes familiar, his smell, his subtle mannerisms… and I love them. Absolutely love them.
He’s my goodnight and good morning. He’s that encouragement that walks with me through the day. Thoughts of inside jokes creep my mouth into a smile as I tend to daily responsibilities and deal with unpleasant people. He prays with me and I think I’ve never heard such lovely prayers in all my life. When he prays for me, I know everything is going to be fine. God listened to that one for sure.
He’s in my daydreams. I immerse myself in the warmth of the memories of how I first met him. That magical destiny that brought us together and would be recounted at my wedding. The wedding will be a simple one. Unnecessary wedding expenses will be cut, but my dress is going to have pockets, damn it (my chapstick has to go somewhere…). It will be sharp and alive, yet a blur because we’ll be so focused on one another and the journey we’re about to take through life.
Our kids will be fantastic. And he’ll be a great father, of course. Handyman. I already know he can change the oil in his car, so he’ll definitely be able to reach those high shelves, lift mattresses, and kill roaches.
Oh, and then just about the time I realize he’s the one… he leaves… and then he’s back [insert excited, party gif here]. Then he’s gone again [insert lonely nights of crying wondering why no one loves me and how I need to change my wardrobe]. Aaaand, then he’s back. And I’m thinking, what the hell? And just about the time I’m warming up to the idea that maybe he is the one, and that past year of him being distant was just a fluke in the long timeline that is my life… he tells me he doesn’t actually have feelings for me. But hey! I have been one of the best friends he’s ever had. So I cut all my hair off to get a fresh start.
And that’s hell. And that was my life. My name is Meagan Butler. And I’m a recovering love addict.