When I Fell in Love with You

Love Locks

I fell in love with you the first time I heard you sing. Not because you have particularly talented vocals, but because of how untroubled you seemed. You sang Journey as if you were Steve Perry himself, standing on a stage of bright lights playing an electric guitar in front of a sold out crowd. It was incredibly beguiling to see someone so unashamed of their true personality. Most people fear our real selves; you embraced yours.

I fell in love with you the first time you rubbed my feet. I was self-conscious of the calluses that had worn over my skin from running every day. But it never even fazed you – not once. I remember the aroma of coconut filled the room thanks to the new lotion you had purchased, and I know I fell asleep not long after.

I fell in love with you that morning when you took care of me. You remember that time? The first time I actually understood what a hangover felt like. And looked like. The whole ride to the airport I kept thinking I was going to see last night’s dinner in reverse. I needed the motion of the cab to cease immediately. You looked over at me and took my hand in yours, squeezed it, and your eyes remained calm and gentle. I fell in love with you shortly thereafter when you showered me with a chocolate croissant and a bottle of ginger ale.

I fell in love with you that night in November when I told you my deepest, darkest secret. The one I wanted to keep hidden away from the world, stifled in the shadows. You held me so carefully and brushed the tears away from my eyes so delicately that I swear I had never felt so safe. And that secret that wasn’t such a secret anymore never altered the way your eyes looked at me.

I fell in love with you in the middle of a heated argument. Maybe it was less arguing and me just yelling. But you, you understood where my anger came from. And you were not – would not – let it define me. I was darting back into that shadow of myself but you pulled me back out – pulled me into your arms and kissed me. You told me it was all going to be okay; you weren’t going anywhere. I really fell in love with you then.

I fell in love with you the night I helped you move into your apartment. We had lugged boxes back and forth, just the two of us. I will always remember that my arms felt like jello the next morning, but I also will never forget how nice it was for us to finally have a space of our own. No, there was zero furniture apart from some makeshift shelves and your bed, but we made do with what he had. And I sat next to you, wrapped in a pair of your pajama bottoms and one of my favorite t-shirts and we ate Thai food straight out of the boxes it came in. You leaned over and kissed me. You tasted like peanut sauce and somehow I knew we would make it in our little corner of the world.

I fell in love with you the first time I saw you cry. It was a Sunday morning in October. And it was a weird change for me – I was usually the overly emotional one. The less stable one. You – you were always so secure and steady and self-assured. But I fell in love with you because you let me see you in your most vulnerable state. You let me take care of you like you had done for me countless times before. And like you would countless times after.

I fell in love with you surrounded by a pile of clothes. You knew I had (and have) always loved the scent of fresh laundry. I sat there folding our t-shirts, your boxer briefs, my favorite sports bras, and I remember feeling you come up from behind me and tackling me onto that pile of warm, fresh laundry. And you nuzzled your nose against mine among your boxer briefs and my favorite sports bras and you whispered how beautiful I look doing the simplest things.

I fell in love with you in the smallest and most fleeting moments. When you’ve accidentally rolled over in your sleep, but you wind up with your body only inches from mine. When you laugh at all of my stupid jokes (even though you will tell me they are not stupid). When you take my hand and lead me into a room or around the dance floor (which is typically your kitchen floor, but that’s beside the point). When you sauté my chicken with the exact amount of lemon pepper that I like. Every time you’ve held my hand, every time you’ve kissed me, every time we’ve laughed together, every time we have fallen asleep in the middle of watching a movie – in the glimmer of your eyes, the lines of your smile, the strength of your arms, the steadiness of your voice – I have fallen in love.

Comments

  1. Reblogged this on Lowercase Alpha and commented:
    This is one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever read in my entire life.

    I might use the technique as inspiration later.

    But this is amazing.

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