If you think that love is overrated then this post is not for you.
If you are one to hate wishful thinking then this post isn't for you either.
This post is sappy and hopelessly romantic in so many ways. . . It is also overly cheesy and I love it.
He asked me to dance. I said yes. He had a girlfriend, but not for very much longer.
Two years ago this next week was our first date. . . Dec. 14 - Oh how I miss him.
He lived 20 minutes away when I was driving. Mind you, I speed.
But I still got to see him almost every day.
We would meet in the middle. Our "middle" was about five minutes from my house and 15 from his.
Our meetings were never long- but they were always perfect.
Sometimes he would throw rocks at my window.
And he would bring me bouquets of flowers, freshly picked out of my neighbors' flower gardens.
He was smooth with the forehead kiss.
And always a gentleman.
My best friend. My anchor. My "Dream-boat".
"I'm in love, I'm in love and I don't care who knows it," Elf.
Sometimes I like to pretend that I am a strong person - I am really good at playing pretend. But today I don't want to be strong. I want to be held close and kissed on the forehead. I want to be lost in the forever-after of my fairy tale, and not stuck in the tower waiting for mister prince charming to return from his voyage.
I am always thinking about him.
His smirk of a smile.
The way he would wrap his arms around my waist and lift me off the ground when we would hug.
I think about going on drives and getting lost in conversation.
I long for the way my fingers would ache after holding his large hands for so long.
And the prayers that we shared were always so sincere and so spiritual.
He is wonderful. I think about that.
It hasn't always been "smooth sailing". . . fairy tales are hard to come by, and there would be no story if there was no opposition.
I have never been hurt more by a boy.
He has made me cry.
I have made him cry.
And I have tried to tell myself that the pain isn't worth it. . . But it is. It is.
I learned something last year that changed my life, and I don't think I have ever shared it with anyone. . .
I was living with my roommate Tami, who at the time was dating a boy named Jayson (they are now happily sealed and married for eternity).
Jayson lived many hours away - they had a long-distance relationship status. . .at night Tami and I would have pillow talk (pillow talk: the sharing of feelings between two female friends before falling asleep) and to cut to the chase she was love-sick and infatuated. I was happy for her.
One particular Sunday afternoon after church I got a text message from the Beloved Jayson saying something like this:
"I am in Logan and I want to surprise Tami,"
We set up a plan for Jayson to hide in our closet while Tami was upstairs and then when she opened the closet he would be there!
The plan was simple, but golden.
Moments later Jayson walked in and he was quickly stuffed into the closet.
I called Tami downstairs. I had her get something out of the closet (geez, this makes me sound bossy).
Jayson walked out.
. . . then she laughed. I also think she started crying or giggling. Next thing I knew she was glued to the kid. Their embrace was not going to be broken.
She loved him. He loved her. (Good thing too, because now they are married!)
But the thing that stuck out the most that Sunday afternoon was the way she reacted. When she saw the man she had chosen to love for the rest of her life come out of the closet - nothing else mattered but him. He was her everything.
Any righteous man or woman could live happily together.
They could grow to be very much in love and they could have a strong, good family.
But I want more.
I want to laugh.
I want to smile and sing.
I want to long for his touch when he isn't around.
I want him to occupy my every thought.
I want to be smitten.
I want him to love me just as much as I love him.
And one day I will have this . . . because to be honest I feel like I have had it before already.