Comfort and Joy

Oh the comfort, the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person, having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words, but pouring them all right out, just as they are.

Dinah Maria Mulock

I know there is strength in the differences between us. I know there is comfort where we overlap.

Ani DiFranco

There were certain things that made me do a double take as soon as we met. There were many more when he came back from overseas. His comfort level with me made me in awe. I tend to be much more guarded, admittedly less trusting. He acted like he'd known me his whole life. I felt like I'd always known him, but couldn't quite put it into actions. I felt as if not wearing makeup to bed was a feat.

And yet...there are certain things in every new relationship that aren't done or aren't talked about, things that are swept under the rug until a later date. These things include farting in front of the other person, announcing said farting, going the odd weekend without shaving legs, or a few weeks without shaving a beard-in-progress. There are times where it is understood not to go into the bathroom for several minutes. There is more honesty about true feelings- where to go or not go, what to eat, or how to do something. These things are all a part of our lives now.

Many of the indicators of a relationship progressing are not necessarily romantic. But there are plans for years ahead of time, timetables for marriage and children and new cars. Details about rings are discussed, baby names are picked out to honor family members, announcements are made. All of these things make my heart swell. I wonder often how I met him, how I got to this point in my life. I want all this now. I crave it with him.

No matter where I've been in my life, the grass has always been greener. My relationship status was never what I wanted. I realize that it is because I never was with the person I should be with until now. For once, the grass is green on my side of the fence.

A friend is on a date tonight, with someone Sky was stationed with, no less. They went to a sushi bar. I picture my friend all dressed up, maybe with shiny earrings, dramatic eyeshadow, a pretty little dress. I'm sure she had a great night, and wished for the butterflies in her stomach to calm a little. I, on the other hand, sit here in pajamas and no makeup, with a cozy blanket over my legs. There is a loud football game on TV, and I'm finishing a Kit-Kat bar while he edits photos from the weekend. There is a kind of peace to this.

And yet, when the TV is silenced and the lights are flicked off, even in the comfort of his arms, I know there will still be butterflies in my stomach, too. There always will be.