Love Letter

It’s just gone half past midnight so I guess technically now it’s Monday. I’ve had another fabulous weekend. In fact, I’ve had a bloody fabulous week. I got invited to swanky hotels for free cocktails and goodie bags because, you know, it’s hard work being a blogger and all. I hung out with Bestie and had good laughs. And then I ended the week off with a frighteningly long and grown up public transport journey that involved two trains, a metro and a little assistance from Google Maps to see Brown Eyes. Everyone who knows me knows me that public transport isn’t my best friend and that getting lost is basically second nature.

By some strike of luck, I managed to make it all the way to my end destination without even so much of a hiccup. I’m getting good at this travelling business. In fact, my anxiety has been at an all-time low for a while now. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt this good, so good that it feels like I can do anything and I don’t just wake up in the morning and write the rest of the day off because I don’t feel ‘up to’ doing anything else.

His vehicle is busted, that was the need for the manic train journey that I decided would be a great idea at 5pm on a Saturday evening. I’ve never showered so quickly in my life, or got ready for that matter. My eyeliner behaved itself on both eyes, my eyebrows matched, my hair went right and my outfit didn’t make me look like a potato. I basically skipped to the train station with the slightest hint of sweaty palms to remind me I suffered from anxiety, specifically social anxiety, at all.

For some of the journey, I read on my iPad and for the rest, I listened to music and let my daydreams pass the time away. Two hours is a long journey for me. That’s pretty much my sitting-still limit. Any longer than that and I would have been crawling the train carriage walls. But I thought about the man I was meeting and how I know his smile would make the entire journey worth it, and all my worries, stresses and concerns seemed to melt away. He has a very calming effect on me, this beautiful brown eyed man. Even when he is at the end of a scary and grown-up two hour journey.

We’ve argued a little recently, on and off, nothing major. Just silly little arguments because we’ve missed each other. He was going to come and get me Thursday night. Then it was postponed to Friday night because of the whole vehicle trouble. Then it was Saturday night. Then when it appeared that wouldn’t happen either, we both had the hump and I decided to take the bull by the horns. If I wanted to see this man, I’d need to take charge of the situation myself. So I did.

We’ve spent the last twenty-four hours wrapped up in each other, onesie-ing the time away, not getting naked because my period decided to stay later than it usually does and wreck all my sexy-time plans in true asshole mother-nature fashion. He “doesn’t care” about “blood sports” but I’m not sure where I sit on the matter. I want this man so much right now but I figured waiting 24 hours or so wouldn’t kill either of us. How wrong I was. It’s impossible not to get turned on around him. He’s had two award-winning blowjobs (his words not mine), and after the second, he told me he was going to marry me again. He tells me he loves me a lot. Still. Even after I told him to ‘Love Me Quietly’. I’ve started to just shrug it off now, perhaps giggle sometimes. The words warm me but as yet, I’ve not been brave enough to say those words to him out loud, at all in fact. Tomorrow though, tomorrow he’ll know how I feel.

He went to bed early tonight because I dozed on the sofa earlier for a couple of hours. I hate napping in the evening / afternoon because it usually means I’ll be awake for half the night … Just like right now. I’ve been busy though. I wrote some nice words about him over the last few blog posts, none of which I’ve told him, so I figured I probably should. I took a few excerpts from my blog, fizzed them around a little so that he couldn’t employ the assistance of Google to find it, and wrote them down in a little love letter that he’ll read in the morning. He always wakes up before I do and when he does, he’ll see that I’ve already done the dishes from the amazing dinner he created this evening, got two cups of tea half-ready, and a little hand-written love letter that starts with, “I wrote words like this in my blog and it’s probably about time I let you know how I feel.” And ends with a very simple, “I love you.” 

I reckon he’ll get it after that. I think he’ll understand how I feel. I think he gets a little worried sometimes that the bubble will burst or I’ll just all-of-a-sudden stop wanting him. I can’t see that happening. I travelled two hours on two trains and a metro, across half of London I’ve never even been to before, just to see him. Not even to get laid, just to see him. I’m hopelessly in love with this man. I think this is our sixth date now. To be fair, the last date was three days long. The one before was two days. I know enough of this man, his life, his friends, and his ways to know that I love him. I’ve known him a month. That’s impressive going even by my standards and I don’t even care. I’m so sucked in by him, there’s no hope for me now. I’m riding it out. I’ll see you on the other side I guess.

Well, I’ll see you tomorrow to let you know how the love letter goes down. In my head, it’s the cutest gesture but to him, it might look nuts. Screw it, I’m a writer. What do you expect?

I can’t wait to go and hop into bed beside him.

Night night xo