So after the fail of my last, like all relationships, I did what all well meaning girls do. I swore off men, seriously considered venturing back to the other team and figured (and whined) that I would be alone forever and ever and ever and well... yeah...
Rolling on... September 9th, 2011 I met someone who has since become one of my best friends. We spent many nights sitting in my car until the sun came up talking life.
Each one of those nights I got butterflies.
Each one of those nights I denied and suppressed and avoided the butterflies.
Each morning that followed my friends got messages about my butterflies.
Shit... It was happening.
Problem being, I couldn't read him.
Not a damn bit.
So I assembled a crack team of "subtle" investigative friends to try and get me some intel. Yes, I had a team. My team tried, some less subtly then others (I believe some advice I received was "Just grab his balls, then you'll know how he feels"). Even his mother tried ("That girl likes you" - Mother "Oh yeah" - Him).
Most people would see this as complete disinterest on his part. Maybe I saw past it, maybe I'm not so bright, maybe I knew he was worth sticking around for, either way... I stuck around. I was having too much fun in the moment. I was finally thinking again. I was feeling again.
Unfortunately part of what I was feeling at the time was also back pain. It was not a good time for my physical body. Seems though, it was all part of the plan when my back seized up as I was getting ready to leave from another late night chatter session.
I insisted I was fine.
He insisted I wasn't.
He was right, I spent the night, he held me, I forgot the pain.
I probably moved from crush to falling in love that night.
That was November 27th, 2011.
Two months later I'm still feeling. I'm still thinking. I still get butterflies.
Every single day I get butterflies.
Why am I telling you all this?
Sometimes we don't realise our own worth. We subconsciously push people away. We are so busy waiting for the other shoe to drop that we miss the amazing moments happening in the meantime.
I came to a realisation recently that I was so worried about losing what I had that I wasn't enjoying it either. It was an awful realisation. This amazing man loves me and instead of living in the fantastic moment of butterflies and security, I was worrying what I was going to do wrong, what I needed to hide, what was going to end it all.
What an awful way to love. It wasn't fair to me and it certainly wasn't fair to him. I said to him one day "I'm just waiting for you to realize how much better you can do then me" and he replied with "That seems like a self-fulfilling prophecy.". He was right. If I'm waiting for the end, the end will come.
I had to make a choice.
Do I love him enough to be myself? To wake up knowing that today is not the end, unless I make it the end. To not expect the worst but to live in the moments bad or good no matter what they are.
I love him more then that.
For the first time, I love some one more then I am damaged, or ashamed, or scared.
And he loves me back.
I am a very fortunate woman, and every day the butterflies remind me.