When I think of love I think of him. I remember talking on the phone with my best friend telling her that if I was going to date him it was going to be serious. I wasn’t going to mess around with him, this wasn’t going to be a casual affair.
Me and him started dating the next week. That was a year ago.
“I miss you.” said through the phone.
I remember worrying that it was a one-sided crush. I remember worrying that I was not enough. Not pretty enough, not skinny enough, not smart enough, not fun enough.
But I remember slyly asking him when he was going to ask me out. I remember the smile in his voice as he asked the question that I’d been waiting for. I remember that first kiss awkward and colored with a yellow hue of happiness and days gone by.
“I love you.” On the other end of the line.
In this past year, we have jam-packed it with memories. Floating the river in San Marcas, ax throwing, renaissance fair, Christmas at the beach, holding hands, bowling, easter with my family, wedding dates, bookstores, kisses in the glow of twinkle lights, hospital rooms, and fireworks.
“I can’t wait to see you!” sent in a text message.
He’s not the perfect man. His hatred of sand makes it impossible to take long walks on the beach, he only dances in private, most of the food I love he detests.
But he makes me smile when I don’t feel like it, he takes my breath away, usually because I’m laughing too hard. He holds my hand in the store so I don’t get left behind, and will twirl me around for the simple reason that he knows it will make me smile. He’s my hype man, my biggest supporter, my love.
After one year, I feel like no time at all has passed, while at the same time it’s like he’s always been there.
“I can’t believe I’m still this excited to see you!!” I tell him.