Has finally returned. It’s about damn time!
He’s totally going to kill me for putting this picture up and most likely referring to him in written words as “a fine piece” {saying it is one thing, seeing it in writing is a whole other}, but I’m throwing caution to the wind.
I’m in this for the long haul, and that means I’m going to start sharing more of my personal life. This also means, ahem, My People, that you’re in this thing with me. Then again, we always have been in it together, but let’s not allow my Taurean brain to get too hung up on literally meanings now.
Seeing as how I can get on things … can you imagine just how difficult those multiple choice tests were for me? The ones where you had literally eleven different options — which happened to me my first year in college. When I was advised to take Geology, aka, “Rocks For Jocks”, because it was so ridiculously easy, anyone could get an A, even the athletes {note: am not dissing on college athletes, I’m very impressed with athletic and scholastic endeavors, I’m just using a generalizational stereotype}.
Well. The semester I took it, some serious Geologist came on board to shake shit up and it was freaking HARD. Like almost as hard as Econ hard, which, I got a D in. People, I had never gotten a freaking C in my life, so yeah — that D on my transcripts says it all for me. Anyway. Geology tests would literally go something like this:
1.a
2.b
3.c
4.d
5.e
6. a, b, c
7. a, b, d
8. a, b, c, d
9.a, b, e
Except I’m being a lot more straightforward with only nine choices — it went all the way to letter, “G”. With way too many freaking combinations. There was no hope. Zero. I’d try to figure it out and carefully consider the options, but then that would take too long and I’d start to zone out and randomly pick one. Kind of like when I took the SAT. Yes, I was that girl who randomly picked her answers and scored better than when I took the SAT Prep class. Figures.
I’m sure Mr. Geo Professor thought I was stalking him — and I was. His office hours, that is. I could not pass one of his tests to save my life and I thought they were quite unfair. I’d argue my points that if you really wanted to see what people had learned, why not take the time to ask instead of giving tests with way too many options, biased to only one specific type of learner.
He actually listened to me, because, somehow I got a B in that class. Can’t remember his name, but I sure as hell remember Professor McCleod – aka D-Econ. And yes, this is the nickname I used … of course, everyone thought I was saying something more like, “da econ”, figuring I really meant “the econ”.
No. You heard it right the first time, D-Econ.
Does it surprise you that I strongly considered law school? Until TC, in his lawyerness, persuaded me that I’d be certifiably loco to do something so horrendous to myself for three years of my life. And then proceed to buy me an LSAT book to try to further discourage me. Which worked, so I’m sure you’re not surprised he was a damn good lawyer during his practicing years.
Can lawyers ever stop practicing though? I think, as TC says, it’s a way of thinking, that they simply can’t shake. Which I totally get. So I should be more understanding the next time he comes out with something I think is negative … it’s prob just the lawyer in him.
Now, back to my fine piece.
How the hell did I get so damn lucky? Sometimes I find myself staring at him and he’ll ask me what I’m thinking about or what the weird look on my face is. I’ve never been able to say that it’s him and I just want time to look … to stare at him.
Maybe part of me thinks he’ll think I’m completely a stalker psycho, which I kinda am about him — hey, just keeping it real. But really it’s just me being completely awe struck that I’m with him, and that he’s with me … People, he actually wants to be with me!
And how on earth did I score such a smoking hot BF? Okay, let me not question that. I’ll go with the hotness factor.
And sometimes … it’s just nice … to sit and watch someone you love … just being … them. Not doing anything of particular achievement or amazement … just people being people is what does it for me.
Simple, small things … cooking, for one. I love to watch him when he cooks. Or with Murphy … or even reading. There’s just something in that, an essence … a state … a What You Be. That completely mesmerizes me.
I hope I never lose this … seeing him this way, as though I’ve just met him, that continual state of excitement in the discovery of who someone is. Those knowing looks of exchange, where an entire conversation seems to pass without a single word … many of our favorite moments together have involved few, if any, words.
Because words fail. All the time. But the feeling never does. The feeling expands and changes and expands some more, and we search and try to put words to the feeling. So we might call it “anger” or “fear” or “love” … but it’s only due to how limited we are with our own vocabulary.
That’s how I knew I loved The BF. There weren’t any words.
I chose and still use, “love”, because what else is there to use? But love doesn’t seem strong or grand enough for this emotion … we can’t put parameters around something that is so big it is literally an energy force of its own.