On Love

Can I talk about love and not have you all vomiting in your mouths? Cool, thank you.

It's not a secret that I'm with someone and it's no secret that he makes me happy and it's no secret that I keep telling people (including him) that I'll be marrying him. Over a year ago I started seeing someone on a whim, someone who I never thought would mean as much to me as he does, and it's wonderful.

I understand now, why it didn't work out with anyone else before. I always thought it was a cliche when people said that, but it's true. Many of my ex-boyfriends weren't even bad people, a couple of them are very good people indeed and I am happy that they too have (by appearances) found partners that are a better fit for them than I ever was. Is that strange? That I preface talking about the love I have now with the loves I had before?  Even if it is, I'm glad that those men I once loved are happy.

This love I have now, I don't need him to tell me he loves me, because I know. I feel it in his words and in his actions, when he looks at me I see that love and it warms my cold heart. If I've ever felt loved before it wasn't like this. I'm thankful the those that came before, who allowed me to discover what it was I really wanted from a relationship, and what I needed from a partner in crime.

The Vandal, the man from Sacramento, in some ways he is everything I never thought would interest me, but then I realise that he is exactly what I needed all along. He argues with me, he dares to disagree with me, he tells me when I'm being a dick, and when previous partners have been overly cautious with me, this is all refreshing.

I have to acknowledge my own part in this, too. That maybe the reason it didn't work out with others was not just because we weren't a good fit but because I wasn't in the right place to be open to the love that I could have with them. When plagued by a serious mental health condition it's difficult to be in a relationship, it's difficult for others to be with me too. I can appreciate the kid-gloves when your girlfriend (me) is prone to overdosing because 'I'd tidied the flat' (yeah, that was a thing once).

This love I have now, it fills rooms, it fills my heart and part of me feels that to really say this out loud would break the spell. He pulls me out from the past and I exist in a happy bubble with him that permeates everything. My hand fits his and my head rests by his collarbone like it was always supposed to be there and this is all so wonderful that it does make me feel a little sick and it makes me want to cry because how can something this great last forever?

I feel the over-whelming emotions towards him and I keep it close. I watch him sleep and I think, 'don't go yet, this is the best part'.

And I am so so lucky and I don't deserve this but I do have it and I am so thankful for it.