Three years ago today, I woke up thinking, was that real? Did the boy down the hall really make up a Valentine's Day scavenger hunt that led to his door? Did he really ask me to go out with him? Does that sort of thing actually happen in the real world or did I dream that?
And then, oh my god, what did I SAY? Am I ... his girlfriend now? Wasn't I in the market for a long-haired guitarist out to save the world and write songs? This kid's got the hair, but he's an economics major. Well ... I guess I'll see how this goes ...
Two years ago, I woke up in a narrow dorm bunk, thinking Holy crap. I really did this. WE really did this - we made a relationship work for a whole year. How did I ever think this guy wasn't everything I wanted? He's written me poems, given me flowers. He's the most intelligent, most gentle person I've ever met, and even though his elbow is digging into my side I don't ever want to move.
A year ago I woke up in a real bed, thinking another year. I can't believe this. I'm a little scared - what's going to happen this summer? I'm going to Delaware, and he's going to graduate. I don't know what I'll do if I have to say goodbye to this man I love so much.
Today I woke up in the biggest damn bed ever, thinking I. Do. Not. Want. To Leave. Ever. I don't want to leave this man, this short-haired libertarian economist of my dreams, this man who took me to a beautiful suite, who took me to the zoo (orangutans!!!!), who makes me think and cry and laugh. I do not want to leave.
But I did get up, I did leave. And then I was the crazy crying girl on the Metro (and now I'm the crazy crying girl at the airport), because goddamn, I miss him so much.
Six more months. We can do this.