just me.

I realize I haven't written in a couple months. I've been too busy being wrapped in my own thoughts, in him, and in work. I thought I would take this break to write a little about us.  From just my point of view.

He was my first real boyfriend. He was my first real everything. My first kiss, my first partner, my first love. And to my knowledge, I was his first for all those things too. I still remember little things about our relationship. I remember how we were still young, and without much privacy, so he rented a hotel room for an afternoon, just so we could be alone. I remember we were always wildly chemically compatible, unable to find a reason not to be attached at the hip.

I used to do stupid things, like wait until he fell asleep and touch his lips. At first, it was because his lips were so perfect, and I wanted to always remember what they felt like, but his reaction is what kept me doing it. I meant it to be soft and romantic, but it tickled him. He kept biting his lip in his sleep, wherever I touched, and eventually he would wake up, annoyed and disgruntled, but even that was so amusing and adorable to me. I had completely forgotten about this, until we met again, and I saw his lips, and touched them softly after he fell asleep. He had the same exact reaction, and it brought that memory rushing back like it had just happened yesterday for the very first time.

He used to walk on the outside of the sidewalk whenever we went somewhere. He said it was safer for the girl to walk on the inside of the sidewalk. I had forgotten he used to do it, but he still does it. He doesn't like to separate paths with poles or fire hydrants or trees because it splits us while we're walking. I don't take much stock in these things. If a car drove up on the sidewalk and hit him while I was perfectly safe, how happy could I be? Would I even think about the fact that he saved me from that car?  I think I would just be horrified and sad and most likely be mad at the world that something so unexpected would happen. We always walked on the same side of poles and trees and hydrants, but we broke up. So why continue that now? If it has any meaning at all, then wouldn't you come to the conclusion that maybe always being on the same side of things means you won't end up together?

His hands... I remember his hands and how we used to lace our fingers together and how much I liked the feeling of his fingers in between mine.  And my feelings about that haven't changed at all. They feel perfect. Not perfect in a physical way, per se, but ... everything inside me feels like it lines up and matches and feels calm when his fingers are in between mine.

I know I was a child, and I know that I was unappreciative and selfish, but I loved him. I loved him the way that I knew how. I took him for granted sometimes, and I know that's wrong, but I was young, and I didn't know how to love in every way that I know now, at 31. But I refuse to let anyone say I didn't love him, because I did.

And today, I don't know if I ever really let myself stop loving him. I dated others, I got married, I got divorced, I've said I love you to many different men, but I don't know if I ever felt the same way I did back then. I've never been happy to just lay next to someone and feel their heartbeat or listen to them snore. I've never wanted to just softly touch someone's lips because they are so perfect.  I've never wanted to be near someone like this. Only then, and only now.