Just as I am

I'm fairly sure I've been a hopeless romantic since the day I was born.

I can remember lying on my stomach in front of the television as my mom and I laughed and swooned over While You Were Sleeping. I was only seven or eight at the time, and while I didn't understand all of the dialogue or humor (Peter's basketball "accident," just for example...cringe!), I did know one thing: I loved love. 

Via

My teenage years were filled with crushes on boys who hardly knew I existed, and my first serious boyfriend ended up being gay. 

Things weren't off to such a great start. 

But still, I knew that someday, I would find someone great. My own Jack Callaghan, if you will. 

Via

And so I continued on, muddling my way through brief relationships and flings with guys who either lacked that certain zsa zsa zsu or simply weren't the right fit for me.

I figured I'd meet Mr. Right later, maybe in my early thirties when I was living in a posh city and was a published author. You know, when I was thinner and had longer, shinier hair. And perhaps a more stylish wardrobe. 

Anyway. 

I never let myself get bent out of shape over the fact that I was chronically single. I enjoy my own company, and I liked the stories and adventures of being a singleton. 

But then on a muggy night in June, with frizzy hair and wearing my favorite red rain boots, I met Adam in a crowded bar. 

He asked me out that following week, and like a typical anxious person, my worries and apprehension grew and grew as the date drew closer.

What if he was a total weirdo? What if he didn't look anything like I remembered? What if we had nothing in common and sat in silence for hours? What if he was a kidnapper? What if this was all some sort of sick Lifetime movie plot about to go down?

Normal singleton fears.

All of my hesitation vanished though the moment I saw Adam that night.

It reminds me of this scene from Big Fish. 

They say when you meet the love of your life, time stops, and that's true. 

I felt something very special—that magical mix of intense excitement and complete comfort. 

It's an odd and wonderful mingling of feelings.

Those feelings become even more extraordinary when you the object of them is someone who likes—and then loves—you exactly as you are. 

You know, just like the famous line from Mark Darcy in Bridget Jones's Diary!

Anyways, I'm writing all of this because I'm having one of those nights where I just feel all gushy and grateful for Adam.

Last night, Adam made us shepherd's pie. And even though he had a lot of freelance work to do, he still sat beside me on the couch, his laptop perched on his knees, as I watched every Christmas episode of The Office. 

And this evening, when I was having a nervy-b about medicine I had forgotten at his apartment, he insisted on driving it downtown to me, including a bag of homemade beef jerky (not so classy, I know) with the delivery.

I knew I would meet someone special someday, but I never expected someone this special. I never thought I would find a person who could make me feel so happy, warm, and free, all through such a big and accepting kind of love.

I've learned to love myself more through Adam, and I'm constantly trying to be more like him, as he is much kinder and more giving than me. 

Thank you for being you, Adam, and for supporting, challenging, and loving me despite all of my weird quirks, tears over anything remotely emotional, and constant phases (Remember the water color kit?). 

I love you, and I like you.