So...freaking...frustrated. Growl.

This is driving me crazy.  It was just one stupid little slip in coordination.  Not a big deal.  At least, it shouldn't be.  So, why the hell am I so bent out of shape about this?

We were supposed to meet up at the gym tonight.  He goes for two hours during his shift, and I like to go because I enjoy it.  I don't have a pass to get on base, though.  To get me a pass, we were supposed to meet up at the gate first.  No big deal.  It would have taken just a couple of minutes to do.  Somebody in his unit was missing, so he only had about thirty seconds to get me a pass.  He told me to be there ASAP, so I got there ASAP.  In fact, I beat him to the gate.  Then I realized I didn't have my ID on me.  I'd taken it out of my wallet to take care of some forms for work, and hadn't put it back.  So, I raced back to the apartment to get it and straight back to the gate.  I got there just in time-to miss him by about one minute.

I got ahold of him to see if he could come back, but of course he couldn't.  This isn't just regular work where you have some flexibility.  This is the military.  He was already doing more than was strictly okay by getting me the pass tonight.  He couldn't try again, and I understand that.  It's just...frustrating.  I'm pretty pissed, to be completely honest.  Only, I'm not pissed at him.

There's no way I could be mad at him, but I know I'm taking it out on him right now.  My responses to him have been clipped and stressed.  I know he can tell, because he just offered to swing by the apartment after the gym, which I know he really shouldn't do.  I just don't want to start talking too much, because then I'll vent that I'm upset.  He doesn't need to be bothered with that nonsense.  And it is nonsense.

I'm frustrated because it's so tough to get the timing right between the two of us.  Him being in the military alone makes things difficult.  Have you ever tried to spend quality time with somebody who works all night long and sleeps all day?  And his shifts are each 12 hours long.  So, between work and sleep there's about three hours left over in the day.  That time has to take care of hygiene, eating, and getting ready for the next shift.  After all of that, there's maybe an hour left.  One hour.  Each day.  It's ridiculous.  Trying to spend quality time with somebody who only has an hour is next to impossible.  He wants to relax with me, but most of the time he's stressing about going back to work.

When he finally has a day off, he spends the majority of it sleeping, because he needs to catch up on his rest.  Then there's my job.  We don't even get to sleep next to each other any more because I work while he sleeps.  By the time I get home, I'm ready to take a bath and go to bed.  My job isn't hard, and my hours aren't long, but I do a lot and I do get tired.  So, I come home and go to bed while he gets up and goes to work.

To get any real time together, I have to be very flexible and extremely determined to make it work.  He doesn't have that option because so much of his life is so strictly regimented.  I am really the only one who can make the choices, so I do.  I stay up all night so we can text (our only real conversations any more).  I stay up after work so I can cook him dinner.  I stay up all night knowing I have to work in the morning because he at last has a night off and I'd like to have that time with him.  Things like that.

Really, it's just me being selfish.  I have physical needs, but I put them aside because I enjoy having time with him.  He told me at the beginning that as far as he's concerned, he'd like to have maybe one or two days a week to spend with me.  Other than that, he didn't expect to see me much.  It's on me that I go so long without sleeping.  It's my fault that I'm cranky as all get out because I don't get enough rest.  That's really why I'm so frustrated tonight.  I give up so much to have that time with him, and this one thing is more for me than it is for him.  I love going to the gym.  It makes me happy, and I always feel so great afterwards.  One stupid mistake, and I missed it tonight.  That on top of missing it last night because I was sleeping has put me in a severely foul mood.  Growl.

All right, enough bitching and moaning.  It's not doing anybody any good.  I'm off to take a bath and then probably to bed.  Tomorrow I have the day off, so hopefully that will help my mood.

Take care.

Too much to do, too little time

I am trying to do too much.  He can see the weight of it all on me, he says.  I have tried to shrug it off like it's nothing, but I can see the damage myself every time I look in the mirror.  Those ridiculously dark circles I had finally started to get rid of are back with a vengeance.  Stupid things.  It takes me an extra five minutes to get ready for the day, because they are so hard to cover up.  At the end of the process, they are still there.  I just barely manage to make myself look more human than raccoon.

So, it is obvious to us both that I am trying to do too much.  The problem I see is that there is nothing in my life that I want to give up or cut back on.

I have work.  I just started a week ago, and I absolutely love my job.  Working at Victoria's Secret is fun, exciting, and definitely entertaining.  I take a lot of pride in my work.  I mean, come on, helping women feel comfortable, beautiful, and sexy for their everyday lives?  That's worth getting up for!  Yesterday I helped a woman find what she said was the first bra to fit her properly and comfortably that she's ever owned.  Every woman who has ever worn an ill-fitting bra knows what torture that is.

I have school.  I have just recently been invited to join the combined Bachelor's/Master's program at Capella University online.  That will save me at least half a year, which is awesome.  Saving time and money?  That's really a great opportunity, and one I'm happy to take advantage of.  I love my classes, of course, but I'm so happy to be getting closer and closer to my degree with every course I complete.  Remember, I decided to study Psychology when I was in the 2nd grade.  So, I have been working towards this goal for the last 17 years. Wow...that's the first time I've ever written it out like that.  17 years.  Now I'm so close.  I can't stand the thought of being delayed again unless it's absolutely unavoidable.

I have domestic duties.  I love taking care of him in that way.  He's gotten so used to having to do everything on his own, I find that really sad.  After all, people are not meant to spend so much of their time alone.  Aside from that, he simply doesn't have enough time.  He works 12-hour shifts, you know.  He works so hard, and when he finally is able to come home, he needs to just eat and sleep.  On his days off, the very last thing he ought to worry about is taking out the garbage, washing the laundry, or doing the dishes.  I can do all of those things.  Yes, I work, too, but my shifts rarely last more than 7 hours.  And my work is during normal waking hours, not the middle of the night as his are.  I am good at domestic duties, I find cleaning relaxing, and I cherish the opportunity to make his life a little bit easier.  It's not something I want to give up.

And, of course, I have him.  We don't get to spend a lot of time together--he's working while I'm sleeping, he's sleeping while I'm working, and our work schedules often overlap a little bit.  Daily, I'd say we have about three hours together on the outside.  Typically our time together is spent on his days off.  Sometimes, like yesterday, we stay up all night (his day off) and then I go to work in the morning.  That is a little rough on me, but I don't want to miss out on the time with him.

Yesterday I found out that I was scheduled to have four days off in a row this week, starting today.  Four days, really?  Part of me thought that's exactly what I need.  Four days is plenty of opportunity to do all of my homework for the week, get the apartment spotless, and rest before going back to my hectic schedule.  I didn't take the time, though.  As soon as I found out about the four days off, I asked for and took on two extra shifts.  One today, and one on Friday.  I still get two days off in a row, and one of them will be on his day off.  I just don't want to lose that many hours.  Frankly, we need the money.  More than that, though, I don't want to be idle.  Once I get going on my crazy schedule, I can't stop.  As soon as I do, I lose my momentum and it's so hard to get that back.

Anyway, it's now 6 am.  I have laundry to fold and put away, and then it's off to bed for a couple of hours.  He'll be home then, and we can have our hour together before he goes to bed, and I get ready for work.  When I came home from work yesterday I was so tired.  I went to bed and ended up sleeping right through the gym.  I'm very disappointed in myself for that, and am determined to not do it again tonight.  I really enjoy going to the gym.  There are stories, of course, but that's another topic for another day.

Take care for now.

You can lean on me

I hate to see him struggling so much.  He wakes up with this heaviness in his eyes that breaks my heart.  A few moments of that sad, resigned look and I am nearly frantic with the need to make him smile.  When my attempts to get a smile, though, it never reaches those weighted eyes.  Not when he has to go to work.  Not when he's facing another week of this nightmare.

When he comes home after his 12-hour shift, he's a different person.  He's tired, of course, but he's lighter.  He smiles, even laughs.  It's like he's gone in to battle and come out victorious once again.  We talk, we play, we love, and then he goes to sleep.  The next time he wakes, the heaviness is back.  I know the cause, and I hate it as much as I understand it.

Every night that he faces another shift, he is unsure if he will make it through.  I see that uncertainty in the lines of his face, the downward turn of his lips.  The sight of it makes me want to scream.  Not at him, but at them.  Those bastards who have beaten him down and made him so, so tired.  They have stripped him of everything that he has worked so hard for.  His career has been reduced to less than nothing.  His relationships have crumbled.  Everything that he had been working so hard on has been taken away, and in such a short span of time.

A lot of days I worry whether he is at a place where he can try to build something with me.  How selfish am I for wanting to start a life with him when he is still so wounded?  When he is still facing so much, am I wrong to ask anything of him at all?  I feel like maybe I am being selfish, but I can't stop.  I love him.  I love being here with him.  And he says that he is happy I'm here.  I want to believe him, but I worry that may just be hubris on my part.  To think that I could actually be doing him some good here...

I feel like he is wasting away in front of me.  This man that I love, have loved for 10 years, he is suffering.  He's hurting, and I am sitting here writing about it.  I hate myself for this, but I don't know what I can do.  I know what he needs:  he needs to be done with this job.  He needs to transition out, and get the hell out of this city.  He needs to go somewhere new, and start over.  New job, new home, new city, new relationship.  Every day that he is here he is reminded of all that he has lost here.  Every night that he goes to work here he is slapped with the knowledge that he does not have the time to build back up what has been taken away.  It's just this horrible limbo that he cannot stop or improve.

I want to make things better for him.  I try with things like keeping the apartment cleaned, doing his laundry, cooking for him, making him laugh, telling him that he is loved and appreciated.  I try to make him smile, and laugh whenever possible.  Every day, my goal is to make his day better than it would be otherwise.  That's all I can think to do.  I just don't feel like it's enough.

When he asks for something, anything at all, I will be here to give it to him.  No matter what, I will be here.  I know it will be a while before he really asks anything of me.  After all that he's lost, it will take time for him to come to fully trust me.  To feel confident that he can rely on me to be here for him.  I will wait, though.  As long as it takes, I will wait.  He's The One.  The man that I want to spend the rest of my life with.  I have all the time in the world to show him that he can lean on me.

Where have I gone?

I am halfway through yet another letter to him when I stop myself.  What am I doing?  I see him every day now.  I can talk to him any time I have anything to say.  He's always shown me that he'll be there if I need to talk about what's going on with me.  So, why do I spend my hours alone writing to him, and not saying anything when he's here?  I don't even show him most of the letters that I write.  At this very moment, in the room that we share, inside the little storage bench which is the only piece of furniture I own, there is a stack of letters addressed to him.

I've been writing to him for weeks.  Since I've been here, I've been writing to him nearly every single night.  All of my worries about being here, being with him, all my deepest fears and concerns have shot to the forefront of my mind.  I can't seem to get away from them, no matter what I do.  It drives me crazy.  I feel guilty for writing yet another letter, but I can't stop myself from going on in it.

He's wonderful.  I want him to understand me, to know me the way that I am now.  I don't know if he would want me, though.  If he really knew all that there was to know about me, would he want me?  He doesn't seem to understand how truly amazing he is, but even so, even with the mindset that he deserves so much less than he truly does deserve, he could not possibly want me.

I suppose the real reason I fear that so much is because I know me.  I know all that there is to know about me, and I don't want me.  I am afraid of me.  Earlier tonight I finally recognized this is my writing.  I used to write all the time, and I would write from my heart.  Poetry, short stories, fiction, non-fiction.  It poured out of my pen like a waterfall of words.  A symphony on the pages of my life.  A while ago, that suddenly stopped.  Or maybe not so suddenly.  I didn't notice it for a reallly long time, so I'm not entirely sure when it started, or how.  All I know now is that I miss that part of me.

I write all the time.  I write for websites, for classes, to communicate with family and friends.  My love for writing has survived, but not the way it comes from me.  As I said, it used to pour from me.  So many times it seemed endless.  I think that I took it for granted, really.  And now it's gone.  I can't find it.  To write anything, I have to be prompted.  I write articles that fit the title my publisher requires.  I write letters in answer to friends and family's questions.  I write on topics that are given to me.  I fulfill assignments.  That's all I do.  Except when I write a letter to him.

When I write to him, I am at last able to glimpse again that passion that used to consume my pen.  I can feel my heart open, and feel all the things that are bursting to come out of me.  So...why do I only write them in letters?  Why don't I talk to him?  He's always let me know that he's there for me.  He's always been patient and kind and understanding when I have talked to him.  Or, if I have to write these letters, why don't I ever show them to him?

Before I'm finished thinking the sentence, I know the answer.  It's because I am afraid of what is in my heart now.  With everything that I've lived through in the last few years, I know I must have changed.  You cannot spend so much of your time just trying to survive and not come out of it different than you were before.  I am afraid of how I've changed.  I'm afraid of what I may have lost.

I am ashamed of myself for hiding.

Do we want the same things?

All day today I have found myself anxious and distracted.  When we first started talking about me coming out here to stay, it was with the clear understanding that this part of our relationship is completely new.  We can't make big plans for the future just yet.  We need to try and take things slow, to see how they naturally develop.  At this point, it's been so long since we have spent any real amount of time together that we can't even be sure that we're a good match any more.  Of course, we both want to be, but there's no way of really knowing until we try to live together.  It's a big test, and it could blow up spectacularly in our faces.

The thing is, after less than a week of being here, after just two weeks of seeing him nearly every day, I'm done for.  There is no doubt in my mind that he is the one that I want.  He is The One.  He thinks that I should be bored here with him, but I am not even close to bored.  How to I explain to him just how much I love this everyday life?  That I get to sleep next to him each night is such a treat.  Cooking dinner for him in the evening is such a treat.  All those silly little everyday things are exactly what I've always wanted with him.

Right now we are both in transition in our lives.  I'm working on my degree, and still working small-time jobs for income.  He is about two months away from being discharged from the Air Force, and then he plans to go back to school.  Neither one of us is firmly established in our careers yet.  We're still working on our plans for our lives.  The thing is, now we can do those things together.  The more time I spend with him, the more certain I am that sharing this journey with him is exactly what I want.  I want so much to be there to support and encourage him as he transitions out and works on his degree.  I want to be there to see all that he does, and see what he becomes.

I love him.  I love how easy it is to be with him.  The only thing I ever have a hard time talking to him about is when I wonder if we are on the same page.  Does he want the same things with me now?  I've been trying to take things slow, but the way I feel is what it is.  I know better than to try and change how I feel.  More than that, I don't want to change this.  I have never been this happy in my life.  I have never felt more content.  Everything with him feels just right.

The question that is burning on the back of my tongue is, "Do you feel the same way?"  Having me here even just this short amount of time, are you certain that this is right for you?  Am I the one for you?  I want to know, but I don't want to ask.  I know that the right thing would be to let whatever this is progress naturally, but how can we do that?  After all, our love started ten years ago.  Nothing of how we came to be together like this has followed the typical progression of a relationship.  To my knowledge, this is completely uncharted territory.  Add to that, what works for one person may not work for another.

I am anxious.  I am full of befuddled thoughts.  I do not know what to do next.  All I can think is that I love him, I am happy with him, and I hope that he feels the same way that I do.

Bath Time!

Waking up next to him is still a treat.  One that I hope I never ever get used to.  Feeling the light hit my face, waking up all warm and snuggly next to my love.  What a perfect way to start the day!  Of course, as soon as I'm awake, I have to promptly jump out of bed.  If I don't, I cannot stop myself from trailing my fingers down his jaw, and resting my cheek against his chest.  As enjoyable as these things are, they usually wake him up before he's ready to be up.  Since I don't want to disturb his rest, I gently slide out of bed and start my day.

By the time Mr. Sleepy Head gets up, I have done a good bit of writing, watched a movie, and started cooking breakfast.  I try to time my cooking so that it's all ready just as he's ready to eat--not as soon as he gets up.  Really, who eats the moment they crawl out of bed?  I stifle a giggle when I see the Swamp Creature's long-lost brother stumble out of the bedroom and flop onto the couch.  I wonder if he realizes how my heart races as soon as I see him?

Our day is delightfully normal.  Grocery shopping, a little TV.  I decided to cook him a homemade meal--one of my specialties--to thank him for asking me to move in with him, and to show him that I love him.  Chicken breast, homemade mashed potatoes (note to self: get him a potato masher! I really like to make mashed potatoes from scratch, and he doesn't have one), and asparagus.  Frozen yogurt for dessert.  The meal takes me over an hour to prepare and serve, but I love every minute of it.  It seems that everything I get to do for him is a joy.  And seeing him devour the meal I made like he hadn't eaten in a week was definitely a pleasure.

After dinner, he announces that he's going to go take a bath.  Before he goes, though, he makes a wise crack about me.

"Oh ho, you think so, huh?"  I say, jumping up and heading to the bathroom.  I start filling the tub knowing full well that he thinks it's for him.  Not this time!  Little snot wants to make wise cracks about me, I'm going to steal his bath. hehehe  :)

Of course, I can't hide anything from him.  He figured out what I was up to, and decided he was fine with me taking his bath.  In fact, he helped me get in...clothes and all!  I don't think I was able to catch my breath for a full 10 minutes after that.  He didn't help matters, either, what with resisting when I pulled him in after me.  He tried to keep himself out of the tub by grabbing on to the shower curtain, which pulled the rod down on top of our heads.  I lost sight of him under the curtain for a little while and had to dig him out.  No easy task when you're laughing yourself silly!

Somewhere between pulling off my soaking wet jeans and helping him put the shower curtain back up, I realize that moments like these are why I'm so completely in love with him.  He is not a spontaneous person, or this silly, he doesn't even laugh that often.  But he does with me.  When he is with me, I feel his walls come down, and I see him come alive.  In these things, I see the reflection of exactly what he does for me.  He is my match, and I love him so.

Sometimes, you just gotta laugh

Of all the things to remember today by, the least likely is what really stands out for me.

We woke up pretty early for us this morning.  The plan for today was a tour of a local brewery, which turned out to be a lot of fun.  The tour itself was interesting and lasted about an hour.  Afterwards, we got to go to the brewery's bar and sample some of their different beers.  We both tried the Honey Wheat, which was pretty good.  Then we each tried three different kinds of beer--for a total of six brews.  He was doing just fine, but I ended up getting pretty tipsy.  Not great considering I'd decided to wear my absolutely great, but very high 5-inch boots.

After a couple of hours in the bar, he let me get my picture taken with a Clydesdale.  I was so happy with that!  I really love horses, and Clydesdales are such gentle giants.  This one's name was Jackson, and he was really friendly.  I was slightly surprised by that, considering he'd been standing out to let people take their picture with him for about two hours, and most of them were little kids that tried to crawl all over him.  He was a real sweetheart, though.  I'm happy that S let me take my picture with him.

When we left the brewery I was still awfully tipsy, so we decided to go check in to our hotel room.  I'd figured that our day trip would leave us slightly inebriated (or at least one of us), so I made reservations at a little place in town.  We checked in and hung out for a little bit.  We were feeling pretty restless, though.  Typically people can't go straight from something fun and exciting to sitting still without some kind of in between.  So, we went to check out the old district in town.  It was a great little place!

After about five hours of walking around in those fabulous boots of mine I was ready to kick them off.  I didn't bring any other shoes with me, though, so I had to buy a pair (oh darn!).  I love shoes.  S helped me pick out the cutest pair of flat heeled boots, and I felt so much more comfortable.  One slight problem:  the flat-heeled boots weren't exactly flat.  They had the tiniest heel on them that was completely foreign to me.  I have never had shoes like that before, so I didn't really know how to walk in them.  They look like flats, where you can step and land heel first, but they have a heel, so you should really treat them like a stiletto.  This is important in just a minute.

We did a little more shopping and looking around, then decided to get something to eat.  What we found was the most delightful little English-style pub.  I have to say, that pub had the single greatest menu I have ever seen.  S and I looked at it for a good twenty minutes, and had such a hard time picking what we wanted to have.  Everything sounded so good!  That was a very pleasant surprise for each of us.

It was back to the hotel after dinner for an evening of goofy movies (including Dumb and Dumber and Mars Attacks!), and great conversation.  I have to say, it was a truly wonderful day.  So, what do you think is the part that stood out to me the most?  Honestly?  It was when we were walking to our table in the pub.

Those new little booties that I got were really cute and very comfortable.  Their only draw back was that little heel I mentioned earlier.  I wasn't used to it yet, and this became spectacularly evident as I tried to walk to our table.  Notice that I said "tried"?  Well, the floor in that pub is very clean (good for them!), and consequently, very slick.  I stepped heel-first on to that floor and found zero purchase.  One second I'm happily walking with the man that I love to enjoy a good dinner, the next my foot is flying up over my head and I'm certain that deer-in-the-headlights look stuck on my face.

Fortunately, there was a little raised area with a banister, which I was able to grasp on to in order to prevent landing firmly on my butt (I have a lot of practice almost falling).  Part of my brain was screaming at me that I should be horribly embarrassed.  After all, there I was, dressed up for a nice date, walking with my guy to have a nice dinner.  And I go and flail about trying not to fall down.  I'm sure it caused a little bit of a scene, considering this was right in the middle of about three tables of people.  The thing is, I wasn't embarrassed at all.  If anything, I was really proud of myself for not actually falling!

You see, it doesn't matter how serious the situation was setting up to be.  Sometimes, you just have to laugh at yourself.

So much for co-piloting

Bowling seemed like such a good idea at first.  I mean, what better way to enjoy a nice evening together?  Neither one of us is any earthly good at bowling, so we'd definitely have some laughs.  Plus, it's a great way to be out in public, in the noise and bustle of society, while still getting to do something just ourselves.  So, that was the plan.  We'd head off to the local bowling alley and play a few games.

The problem is, he likes to drive his car.  I will readily admit that his car is much nicer than my own, but mine is perfectly serviceable.  So, he insists on driving.  Now, that leaves me to act as co-pilot.  This means it is my responsibility to navigate us to the bowling alley.  Did I mention that I have been here for less than one week?  And the majority of that week has been spent indoors?  I am completely unfamiliar with this area, so really I'm just guessing at which way to go.  Thanks to this, it takes us roughly an hour to meander over to the alley which is less than fifteen minutes from his apartment.  :)  Oops!

Of course, once we get to the bowling alley we discover that leagues are going on, and we cannot play tonight.  So, back to the apartment.  On the way back he does not need any assistance with navigation, and this leaves me with an opportunity to ponder.

I wonder if I am an adequate partner to him.  After all, navigation is something that he has been trained to do, and something that he finds to be extremely simple.  If I cannot manage this, how stupid must I appear to him?  Regardless of the fact that I am brand new here, I should be able to keep up with him.  A good partner would be an asset to him.  I wonder if I could possibly say that about myself at this point?  I wonder if he would say that about me?

On the drive back to his place, I go over what I could possibly bring to his life.  Love, of course.  He has 100% of my heart.  Devotion.  He is the only one I want.  Laughter.  I am a silly individual, and I like to play and have fun.  Generally he is a more serious person, so I think that laughter is a good thing to bring to him.  Intelligent conversation.  He can talk to me about pretty much anything and I am able to keep up with him.  I occasionally bring up interesting conversations myself.  I say occasionally because I typically keep my thoughts to myself.  I'm...introverted.

The thing is, I know that I can bring some great things to his life.  What I don't know is if those things are important or even relevant to him.  What good are my assets if they mean absolutely nothing to him?  I want to ask him what things are important to him.  I want to ask him if I bring anything good to his life.  I just don't know if now is the right time, or how to go about it.  And so, all these thoughts stay inside my head on the quick, quiet journey back to his apartment.  Once inside, I put the thoughts to rest, and we pick out a movie to watch.

So...what did he say?

Women, as a general rule, do not like to admit their insecurities.  Even though they become glaringly obvious to anybody who spends any real time with us, it's hard to admit them openly.  One of our biggest insecurities is wanting to have the approval of others, but never being really sure if we get it or not.

Earlier tonight, we went out to a local bar to meet up with one of his friends.  All the way there, I could feel my stomach knotting up with worry.  Will the friend approve of me?  Will he think my guy and I are a good match?  What's more, how will my guy introduce me to his friend?  To this point, we have avoided titles altogether.  I wasn't entirely sure what I was hoping for, which made it that much more confusing.

When we got to the bar, we found a little table at the back and ordered a couple of beers.  Locally made, they were really good.  Honestly, I've never been much of a beer drinker, but when I'm with him it feels right.  I love how so many things feel right with him.  It's been amazing getting to spend this time with him.  I'm halfway lost to my musings when I see his arm go up to let his friend know where we are.  My heart starts racing, wondering how the rest of this night will go.

As it turned out, I didn't need to be worried at all.  When his friend got to our table he said, "J, this is my girlfriend..."  Wow.  Girlfriend.  We'd never officially talked about it, so I wasn't sure where he was at with titles. I have to admit, girlfriend sits very well with me.  Our history complicates things somewhat.  We've known each other for ten years, loved each other for nearly as long, and stayed in touch as our lives took very separate paths.  Somehow, "girlfriend" and "boyfriend" aren't exactly serious enough to reflect how we truly feel about each other.  Still, for how new this part of our relationship together is, the titles are just right.

The rest of the evening went really well.  The guys talked about work, video games, and some of the people they knew.  Occasionally J would turn to me and ask me a question about us.

"So, how did you two meet?" J asked.

After a quick almost-shy glance at my guy I answered.

"Middle School."

The look on J's face was great!  Stunned surprise, a questioning look like he was wondering if we were joking.

"We've known each other for about ten years," I explain.

After taking a couple of moments to recover, J asked me what I was doing out here.  Did I come just to see S?

"Actually, I came out to hunt buffalo, and thought since I was in the area, I'd drop in and see how he's doing."

The guys both laugh, and I hear S say, "Good answer."

The conversation moves on again, going nowhere in particular.  We take our time, enjoying the company and the fantastic burgers we each ordered.  When the guys get off on video games again, I let my mind drift a little inward.  I'm enjoying the lively atmosphere of the bar, and I'm supremely aware of the feel of S at my side.  I try not to look at him too often, not wanting to be obvious about how much I want him.  Suddenly, I'm aware that J is talking to me again.

"So, what's your plan now?"

I know he's asking if I'm planning to stay here with S and make a go of it, or if my trip is just that--a single trip.  I can feel S's eyes on me, waiting for my answer, and I know that I have to be careful.  Of course, in my own mind I'm thinking, "If he'll have me, I'll be coming back very soon.  Coming back to stay."  Out loud, I say:

"Just hang out, have some fun.  See how much he'll let me get away with."

"I'm guessing that's a lot!" J laughs.  I see S turning a little red out of the corner of my eye.  I hope that J is right.

The rest of the night went as well as this.  We laughed, joked, ate, and drank.  Before I knew it, we were saying goodbye and heading home.  On the way back to his apartment, I asked S what J thought of me.  It's as close as I can get right now to admitting openly that I want the people in his life to think that I'm good for him.  I can feel myself blushing, and silently thank the darkness for covering up my embarrassment.  I hate that I asked, but now that I have, I desperately want to know the answer.

"He liked you all right," is S's immediate answer.  He probably won't tell me anything else, I think.  Unless I ask another question, and I'm not sure if I...

"Did he say anything?" I blurt out before I can stop myself.

S goes quiet and still for a moment, thinking.

"Not really," he starts to say.  Then he corrects himself.

"Well, he did say one thing."

I hold my breath, assuming whatever J had to say would be bad.  I can't understand why S likes me, so why on Earth would J?

"Oh?  What did he say?"

"He said he was glad I finally found the perfect woman for me," S says.

There is absolutely no point in pretending I wasn't hoping for something like this.  I can't stop myself from grinning ear to ear as I settle back in to my seat and take S's hand in my own.  S squeezes my hand, and I see a small smile play across his lips.  Something tells me he knew I was hoping J would approve of me.  Now that I have that approval, I suddenly realize that it's not that important.  It's really nice, it's true, but what makes me happiest of all is being with my man.  Getting to hold his hand like this, getting to see him every day.  He's amazing, and I love him with all of my heart.