Hello Seattle

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I was buzzing with anticipation the entire flight. Did this flight used to be two and half hours long? I swear it used to be shorter. It shouldn’t take me this long to get to you. Not after so much time. I guess, if you really think about it, it took me months – no, years – to get to you. So you can’t hold it against me that I’m so excited I can’t sit still. The poor woman next to me? Yeah, she might be holding it against me.

But I can’t manage to make myself think of anyone, or anything, but you. And I’m a terrible mess of excitement and nerves and desire and fear. And that fear kicks in more when our meeting doesn’t happen exactly like I thought it would. It was silly of me, of course, to want something so cinematic, but that’s what happens when I’m left with only my memories for four months. I get a little crazy.

The fear damn near takes over when you mention that the couch is available. My heart drops to the ground floor of your swanky apartment building. But before I can gather my thoughts, you point out that your bed is available, too.

And the way you say it, I remember that you’re just trying to be careful with me, not presumptuous. Of course, when it comes right down to it, you probably aren’t presumptuous enough if you compare it to the thoughts running through my head. So we pass some more pleasantries, and finally find ourselves in your bed. And that’s when it starts.

The next four days are a blur – a medley of your hands and your lips and your legs and your smile and the intensity you exude. I catch myself in disbelief every time you take my arm as we steel ourselves against the damp cold. And that cold isn’t anywhere near as pervasive as I remember it being. In fact, this city, which I was so ready to escape from, looks completely different when I’m looking at it standing next to you. Maybe it’s because you bring out the best in me and don’t allow me to fall into my pessimistic cycles… As if I could around you.

I can hardly recall the details of how we spent our time. But I know that I learned so much more about you. And I learned that you’re human. Which sounds silly, I’m sure, but it was important for me to be reminded of that. The funny thing is that realization, that fall of the idol, for lack of a better term, didn’t make me want you any less. In fact, it reinforced everything I thought about you.

And the balance we achieve when we’re together is incredible. I’m less neurotic, and you seem less hesitant. I love seeing your life, and pretending, even for those few days, that I’m a regular part of it. I love watching you play while I sit curled up on your giant chair with a glass of wine. You’re majestic, you know.

Somewhere between your arms around me as we fall asleep – and I love the tiny noises you make in your sleep – and the look on your face when I finally convince you to open your eyes, and you stretch your gorgeous body just to wrap it around mine again, I know. Somewhere between your kisses in the elevator, and picking out cheap wine at Trader Joe’s, I know. Or maybe it was somewhere between the waterfront and looking for your name on the tiles of the marketplace, I know. I may never be able to put my finger on the exact moment, but by the time I’m forced to get on a plane and leave you – with tears running down my face as I listen to the music you added to my playlist – I know.

I know that this – that you – are something incredible. I know that this will be different. I know that you are what I want – what I need – in my life. And I know, strangely enough, that neither of us are going anywhere.