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Location: Home.
Listening: Silence.

Busy day. After I deposited my paycheck this morning, Peter and I raced off to see a matinee of Zoolander at the local UA. Not bad for a fluffy comedy. I prefer A Night At The Roxbury for purely absurd entertainment, but this one definitely had its moments. It'll be one of the ones that grows on me, I can tell. There's a moment in the film that pays homage to 2001. I found it clever. Peter found it so hysterical that he was balled up in his seat with barely muffled laughter. The rest of the sparse audience was silent. It was great. Later, I think he was a little embarrassed when I mentioned that he was the only one really laughing, but I found it adorable. I love hearing him laugh.

From the film, we had lunch at Wendy's and then off for haircuts at a salon near the apartment. Second time we've been in for joint cuts and also the second time my stylist (a guy this time) went on for about fifteen minutes about how attractive my "friend" is (I try not to jump to the "boyfriend" label right away because Peter is so much more than my "boyfriend", I don't want to be proprietary right off, and I want to hear what others have to say--knowing they might not be so candid if they knew we were living together). For the second time, I agreed wholeheartedly with everything said. Nine months after Peter moved in with me, I still will catch my breath sometimes when he looks at me. It's really gratifying to hear others sing his praises as well. I don't think he hears them sung often enough--although I try--and so I take great delight in telling him when someone I'm talking to comments favorably. Although, if they only knew how beautiful everything below the surface is, they might not be so fascinated with the exterior.

I sat down to write a long account of my day, but that effort is being subverted by a desire to simply end this by mentioning that I'm more in love with the man I live with than I've ever been. The last few months have been very difficult on every level for both of us and yet, we seem to have grown closer as a result. Even in my darkest moments of paranoia and tension, Peter has been there to reassure me and to help me work through the why's and how's of what's beneath the knee-jerk reactions and small collapses of logic. I've never had someone that I could completely trust before. I've never had someone I could truly lean on before when I felt that things were starting to fall apart around me. Every time I brace myself for the chance that I might somehow have driven him away, I look around and there he is, still, and it never fails to inspire genuine awe in a girl who concluded a long time ago that she would probably have to go it alone. I have never once, in nine months, regretted the choice to allow him into my life. I've been blissful, terrified, defensive, and resistant by turns--but I've never once regretted loving him. We've somehow managed to put two fiercely independent, stubborn, opinionated, and driven personalities under one roof and make it work. We moved in together ten days after our first real conversation, and we've spent the last nine months getting to know one another as people, roommates, and lovers. We faced incredible odds. We've truly fought perhaps twice (once about the inherent nature of man and again about biological differences between men and women that affect their patterns of behavior)--and neither lasted the day. We don't push or nag, ridicule or fuss, play power games (not the bad kind, anyway) or make childish bids for attention. We don't ask for what we're not willing to give, and we accept each other for who we are and not who we wish we were. We value free will over obligation and individuality over any pre-conceived notion of coupledom. We know what we have while we have it--and what we have, I still can't find the words for.

When I get out of bed in the morning, he keens in his sleep and reaches for me...when I wake, the first thing I think to do is reach out and touch him...we use the words "I like you" more often than "I love you" because we know it's more important to like than to love, in the end...yet, when he's sound asleep and I whisper that I love him, he remembers it in the morning...I sleep on the couch while he types because I like feeling him close by...he lets me use his computer (Amy) and smoke his cigarettes...I like listening to his stories about EverQuest...he cooks dinner for me and listens to me rabbit on about work...I do his laundry...he's there, smiling, when I come home...I'm willing to do whatever I can to make sure he has the life he wants...he's willing to move cross country to let me have the one I want...

I have never known anyone like him--or anything like this.

He once said that he's waited 25 years to find someone like me. I feel like I've waited twice as long--and it's been worth it.