My roommate is talking to her current interest about ukulele serenades and polenta. This weekend he abruptly shut down her drunken advances. Last year I probably was her, substitute bongos and sushi.
Bongos. I hate bongos. I used to pretend to like bongos.
An hour ago my boyfriend dropped off his favorite drug of choice when he's sick. It's been an interesting two weeks as we both decide to see if we can revive things eight months later. He is. Ridiculously amazing. And I need to stop being a jerk because I'm afraid of it getting serious. I know I've been emotionally vacant lately and he's sensed it and is confused.
He's a professional. And not professional in the watered down sense, but in the classical scotch sipping buttoned shirt wearing degree and esteem and ethics having way. He's an academic on the side, relaxed and relentless at the same time. He's tall and has a beautiful smile and warm eyes that crinkle, and soft skin and broad shoulders. He has amazing people skills and compassion and is unusually social for his profession.
And on top of this? He likes me.
Even though I have a juvenile sense of humor and numerous flaws and he's seen me completely undone. Despite him being what he is and my being what I am, when I tell him I don't feel well on the phone he's dropping off something to help me go to bed and hugging me in that warm way that makes it better.
I am working. On this stuff.
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