| When he came to see me on Friday, I was delighted. I was so glad to see him, I didn't really mind walking up the hill in the dark to reach his car. "I need to make a run to Wal-Mart. To pick up some essentials that I forgot," he said. "I'm not a very good Boy Scout." We pulled into a space in the parking lot just as it started to rain. Drops gathering on the windows, little rivers running down the windshield, pools collecting on the black asphalt that reflected silver and gold. The only sound was the steady pattering on the top of his car; a shy moment passed before he touched my face with his soft fingertips, and kissed me with even softer lips. I let my hand alight on his shoulder, listening to the rain falling in the darkness, little adorations passing between our mouths. He smiled and told me it was the most romantic Wal-Mart parking lot he had ever encountered. I laughed, but had to agree. The gentle lullaby of the rain, the sound of his breathing, the palpable warmth of his presence. When we haven't seen one another in a while, we kiss humbly, unassuming and shy. There is a certain sweet hesitance, as if every reunited kiss were our first. There is a reverant way that my hands seek his face -- I wonder if he can sense my devotion in that touch. If he knows how deeply I cherish his affections.
Did my heart love till now? I adore him so utterly, I wonder how I ever thought I loved before. I will not attempt to fool the reader into believing I have never been in love before. I can't say that I didn't love Martin -- I did, and deeply. Or that I didn't love Alex Taylor, for he, too, was deeply loved, after a certain fashion. Will, too, I loved, though a great deal of that was sympathy, passion and heartache. Or that I haven't been in love with, or at least cared deeply for, a handful of others.
But it was never quite like this. Martin, I loved because he was the first. Alex Taylor, I loved for his intellect, his conversation. I wanted desperately to be able to save Will, to care for him, to make him happy... But with Bill, it's a little different. It is the devotion that I felt towards Martin, but with an equality and strength I didn't have then. It's the respect I had for Alex Taylor, but without the apathy, the indifference. It's the caring and concern I felt towards Will, without his avoidance, his sometimes-callousness. That isn't to say that sometimes he isn't callous, sometimes he isn't unthinking, sometimes he is less than the beau ideal. And often times, I am less-than-angelic. The difference is that none of these diminish my love for him, or -- as far I as can see -- his love for me.
How sappy... but true.
In other news, I fucking hate the CMT Awards. Seriously. HATRED. SEETHING HATRED. But I like Melinda Doolittle! Go Belmont grads!
End transmission.
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