… so the sound of my typing doesn’t wake him.
This is a love letter, of sorts. About how I, the original embittered cynic, have managed to fall head over heels in love with a sweet boy living too far away. The North Atlantic seperates us. The SDMB has struck again; there’s another long distance relationship going on between two of its members, and I’m currently sat here wishing he snored as he’s fallen asleep and I am straining to hear it. Busy browsing the threads about moving to another country, immigration, or anything even vaguely schmoopy because that’s the mood he puts me in. ME! I am not schmoopy. Hell, I barely even manage romance on St. Valentine’s day. With him, I manage it without trying. He inspires it.
I keep nudging the microphone with my knuckle, hoping to keep the connection alive. My version of watching him sleep, for now. I am warm all over and happy and in love. I should hate the fact I’m a huge cliche and that he makes me remember poetry and smile, but instead I am loving every minute. You may not be aware of it, but every single love song on the radio at the moment is about us. S’true.
The five-hour time difference is killing me. Or, it should be but it’s not because who needs sleep? Well, him, apparently. Snore, dammit! But noooo, he has to be so bloomin’ perfect he doesn’t even snore. I bet he’s never even picked his nose.
AHH! A sigh! He sighed in his sleep! My stomach flips over and my chest is painfully full of emotion. THE HELL. How dare he do this to me. ME! I eat boys like him for breakfast (figuratively speaking). But he’s got me tied in knots and around his little finger. Already, from this distance. Damn him.
Argh.
I’m scared. Not at how fast and how intensely I fell for him, although I was. I haven’t been in love for too many years now, and never like this. Never with someone as all-encompassing as him. I’m done for, utterly. It has been a total rollercoaster ride so far - happy to get to know him, a new friend who is smarter than me, funny as hell, who makes me feel younger than I am. Then falling fast and hard, terrified knowing there’ll never be a chance he could possibly feel it too. And then he does. Heart attack. How in the name of whatever did this happen? How did we let this happen?!
I’m not stupid enough to call it fate. Then again, I’m not stupid enough to ignore this great shining chance for happiness slip away.
But I am scared because I want to shout it from the rooftops; I’ve met this wonderful man and, for whatever reason, he loves me back (I find myself constantly stunned by this). And I know that no matter who I tell, no matter how good a friend; they’ll think it’s less than it is, that we are less than we are. It’s online, it’s not real, it’s not love. When everything I feel for him is more real than anything I have experienced in a long time. I feel I’m 15 again. I feel like I could tear holes in walls with my teeth. I feel like I could do anything because this beautiful man who has the sweetest, biggest heart of anyone I have ever met, loves me. The fool.
(I think I just heard him turn over in his sleep. I think my heart just stopped.)
So, Dopers, I can’t brag about him because this is too new and precious to me for anyone to see it as less. So I come to you, because you’ll understand. This board is like a frickin’ dating service; I mean, we don’t even get to be the first SDMB gay couple fercryingoutloud. And you’ll understand because you see him here, every day, being funny and catty and smart and cute and too-perfect-by-half. Maliciously, just to make me fall in love with him. Come and tell me this is real, because I know it is and it feels so good to hear it. Come tell me it will work, because I feel like it will and I don’t need the naysayers pooping on my bed of roses. Come and say you are happy for us, because I can’t remember a time when I have been happier. Please?
Matt, I love you with all my heart. I’m yours, I think it might be for keeps. I have to go now before I break into song or something. Sweet dreams, boo.
