I think I was at the Matchbox Twenty concert last year when these lyrics first cut me:
“I don’t know if I’ve ever really been loved by a hand that’s touched me”.
Why hadn’t those lyrics resounded before, when I’ve played Push over and over since 1997? And why was I only realising that then, in the middle of an event that made me so happy? Rob Thomas’ familiar voice told me that I’ve always loved a man more than they loved me. I’d like to think there was some love between those men and I – there was, I could feel it, but the love was always uneven, temperamental, needy, ending. Always.
Until now. The love is even now.
I’ve been spending so much time with this boy. I’ve gone from an only child, sole dwelling, independence loving to missing him on the days we aren’t together. I’m still getting used to calling him my boyfriend when referring to him in conversation, and when I do, I get giggly. I am so glad I gave him another (another) chance.
He loves my cooking.
Our silences are comfortable.
Every outing is an adventure.
He makes me laugh uncontrollably, about silly things, our in-jokes now.
He picks me up from work, looking hot in his tradie uniform, apologising for being late because he stopped off to buy me a dozen red roses.
He holds me tight and says he doesn’t want us to end.
When I can’t see that he’s reaching for my hand, butterflies clap in my tummy.
I feel safe.
He’s satiated my skin hunger.
He’s marvelled at how my cream on his hands – from holding my hands – makes his skin so smooth. He doesn’t wipe me skin off him. He says my skin on him – in his pockets even – remind him of our time together. They’re memories of me. I’ve never let me dermatological guard down this much.
This boy is the cutest, most considerate! Switching to sensitive skin products like body wash, sunscreen and deodorant as a precaution against hurting my skin when he hugs me.
We are open about our admiration for each other. This is a pictorial representation of us:
Though I don’t like saying goodbye, I do like it when he kisses me goodbye before he goes to work, when I feel my least beautiful with squinty eyes and a scaly face first thing in the morning. He thinks I’m beautiful all the time.
I love someone who loves me. It’s most wonderful.