Being friends with him is easy. Comfortable. Natural, like breathing. We spend a lot of time together in silence. Just drinking in each other's presence. I love that we don't have to force conversation; it comes and goes as it pleases.
He's a lot taller than me. I prefer it that way. I can wear heels without wounding his pride. Not that he's overly proud. He's the least arrogant person I know. What I love about him is that he can be such a badass. He's really very intimidating, the way he dresses and the way he carries himself. There's also the fact that he's something of a rock star. But he's such a tremendous dork! He's so incredibly silly. And his brothers are just like him. I'm with friends with all three. How could I not be? They're closer than blood.
We met on the internet. I'd heard of him and his brothers before. I wanted to believe that he was who he said he was, but I didn't want to look the fool. He was able to prove his identity to me though. Webcams are a useful invention. Of course, once he showed me his face, he wanted to see mine. I couldn't refuse. I was definitely nervous. I never wear makeup. He does. He's gorgeous. I'm very average. If even average. He called me pretty. Now he calls me lots of things. Including sexy. And beautiful. And dangerous. And glorious. I'm completely in love with him, naturally.
He thinks that he's all wrong for me. Too old. I think that's utter nonsense. Souls are ageless, so why should it matter how long we've spent on Earth? I think he loves me. He tells me that he does several times a day. But, I can't help but feel that he's trying to push me away at times. He introduced me to someone closer to my own age one time. This younger man was a bit like him, silly and good-looking. This man was funny and talented, though at a very different medium. I was nice to the younger man, of course. But the younger man knew. I could never love anyone but him.
I lost my virginity to him. There were many times that it almost happened. But, he always backed off at the last moment. He was afraid to steal something from me. The first time it almost happened was actually when I told him that I had never done "that." I think that surprised him. Not because I was a virgin (he knew me pretty well by then), but because I had never mentioned it before. We told each other everything. And we still do. This was a pretty important thing to leave out. We didn't get close to doing it for quite some time after that. And still it didn't happen. I lost track of the number of times that "it" almost happened, but didn't. I got so fed up with him getting me all hot and bothered and then saying it was too soon. We needed to wait. He didn't think he should be the one to take my virginity. I tried to explain that I wanted him to be the one. He refused to listen for months and months. Enough was enough. I decided to take control. I didn't really know what I was doing. I had a fragmented picture taken from movies and books and the rest of our corrupted culture. He let me take charge for a bit. But I guess whatever I was doing, worked. And then he took charge.
He writes poetry in his spare time. Verses that he can't get out of his head, verses that will never be sung by his exotic voice. Verses that will never be surrounded by crushing guitar and smashing drums. He writes - poetry. We read whatever we've written to each other. It always makes me nervous reading to him. He actually gets paid for his lyrics. I don't really think my poetry will ever be more than a notebook stashed in a cupboard. Lately, all my writings have been about him. He's so beautiful, in so many ways. I can't help but be inspired by him. He claims that I inspire him, but his rhymes and his rhythms always portray a creature that I am quite unfamiliar with. How can he be writing about me when he describes a fiery beauty with an unbendable will?
He has a nick-name for me that I won't divulge. It's much too embarrassing. How did I ever get him? We met on the internet. We exchanged e-mails for over a year before we met in person. It wasn't easy getting together. We're from different countries, different continents. He flew me to meet him. He's so amazing. I flew first class the whole way and he picked me up at the airport when he could have easily sent a driver. I, of course, recognized him immediately. He was wearing dark glasses and a cap inside. His t-shirt didn't cover his tattoos. I knew it was him the second I left the terminal. I admit I was frozen when I saw him. He was looking right at me. He knew it was me. We had conversed from time to time on webcams, but it wasn't easy to arrange because of the time difference. But he knew it was me. I later asked him how he had recognized me. He claimed there was something about my eyes that he would recognize until the day that he died, even if we never saw each other again. He calls me beautiful.
He was looking right at me and he walked right up to me. He stood respectfully about a foot away. I smiled sheepishly. His handsome face split into his perfect, crooked grin. He stepped a little closer and asked if he could hug me. I laughed and dropped my bag to the ground. He threw his arms around me and we just held each other. He admitted that he had wanted to touch me for as long we had known each other. I said he smelled good and he chuckled. I felt completely ridiculous.
Like an idiot, I had packed my winter coat in my luggage. He generously lent me his. I tried to refuse, but he said he'd be fine. I only accepted it because I wanted to drink in his delicious scent. That night I met his brothers. They were as wonderful as I thought they would be. I love them as much as I love him, though in a very different way.
He proposed last night. That's why I'm writing this down. So I'll always remember how it began. So I will never get overconfident. I don't want to let myself belief that somehow I deserve to be with him. I didn't earn him. We met on the internet. It simply happened. I'm completely in love with him, naturally.
It's easy loving him. Like breathing, it comes naturally. I can't imagine how I survived without him. Whenever I try to remember who I was before, I see an empty shell of a woman, possessing no beauty or unyielding spirit. He completes me. Because souls are ageless, so why should it matter how long we've been on Earth?