The flowers he got me.
January 22, 2013.
I’m gearing up to see him on our 3-month anniversary. It’s been almost a week since our last encounter & I miss him like crazy. As I’m fixing my hair & make-up in the bathroom, I hear my mother say, Hey —–! [I don’t want to post his name]. When she says that, the smile forms on my face. He’s here.
When I walk into the living room, my parents are talking to him. He smiles when he sees me & I smile back. My mom says, Okay, go say hi to your honey without the parents. We head into my room to talk & hug. During our conversation, he pulls out a bundle of roses from under his hat. How cute & romantic, I think to myself. I kiss him on the cheek since I think he’s still sick.
After talking for about an hour, we go to a local diner. He opens doors for me, like a gentleman. We joke, we talk, we trade stories. In the car, we’re quiet, but it’s not an awkward quiet, it’s just a pure comfortable silence. We’re becoming more comfortable with one another & it’s delightful & enjoyable.
Throughout the night as he looked into my eyes, I swear, I wanted to say, I love you. I know it’s only been 3 months, but I’m starting to feel something that I’ve never felt before. I won’t say it though. I’m terrified, scared & worried that he wouldn’t say it back. Is it really “love” though? I’ve never felt that strongly about uttering those three words though. NEVER.
We sat real close & he spoke in a low voice.
You’re awesome, I said to him while laying my head on his shoulder. Most of the time he wants to hold me, he wants to hold hands, he wants to hug me, but this time, I wanted to lay on him.
Why, he inquired. Because you’re sweet, caring, nice, caring, cute, smart & adorable, I shared with him. He tells me I’m awesome too.
10:20 p.m. I should get going, he said. I knew. I know. But, for some reason, I felt like crying. Literally. I never felt THAT strongly about him going home. I wanted him. I needed him. I desired him.
Why does he have to live 45-minutes to an hour away?
We go from seeing each other every. single. day from the end of August to December to 1-3 times a week. What a change, what an alteration, what a switch. It’s getting hard for me personally.
I think I miss you more than you miss me, I said while looking into his brown eyes. I certainly do. I mean, obviously I make do, but gosh do I miss him!
But, he’s such a great boyfriend.
The flowers mean so much to me, just like him.