November 15, 2011
Attention

jeremmorrow:

I once met a friend of a friend on Twitter. She became an instant crush. And an instant friend. Someone I spoke with, via the net, almost daily.





Then I attended her wedding (I know), meeting her for the first time in person. I shook her hand and felt weak-kneed. I told her, “Nice dress.” You see, she hates dresses. I knew it. She gave me the finger. And the eye. I felt a pang of, “Ah shit. There goes life being a dick again. Oh well.” She moved to Florida the next day. And I went on with life, putting her out of my mind. Mostly.


Much later I got a message she’d be visiting the area…


This portion of the tale will be told later. I’m open enough to make most fidget incessantly, but tis a wee bit too soon just now. Net friends who were paying attention weren’t blind to some of it, though. Moving on.


She went back to Florida. I remained in North Carolina. We were stuck. In two separate, yet equally dreadful, shitty situations. Situations we both owned partial blame for. But the complicated things that happen, did. And we were beginning a path together. An Appalachian trail of Love (Fucking EW, right..?), devil’s back-boning our lives, writhing in wondrous yearning that makes people, quite simply, goddamned retarded. We’d become home for one another. We’d become simpering romantics. We hated that. But we were stupid.


That happens. To people. We be stupid. Which is as healthy a realization and happening, as there ever was. We also be DEVO, but that’s another post, altogether. I have a point. Hold on.


Then, when the separate, yet equally dreadful, shit hit the monstrous fan (One of those ever-saying-no fans with the knob you pull up.) we decided to do a very smart thing. She uprooted and moved. To a different house in Florida. And the kids & I, moved from NC to fucking Florida to be with the woman we all three loved. Wonder and amazement. Every day. The honeymoon bumps have been present, of course. Hard, but educational. No sense sugar-coating the bruises (Sexual trophies being a thing of an entirely different color). We’ve had emotional “ouch” moments. Those too, happen. But they never divide us. Life with her, since March 1st (My birthday, pip pip), has been so humbling, centering and satisfying. Highly suspect.


My once young and romantic heart had grown apathetic-to-lurve.


Now my heart is a slow clap.


She did that.


I love you, Leigh Cowart.


Also, *cough* we’re pregnant.


The child, until further notice, is called ROBOCOP.


Frank Miller’s dumb ass, notwithstanding.


Good night.

12:17am
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