I’m not talking about that childhood crushes where the furthest you went was a chaste peck on the cheek.
I’m talking about the first time I was truly in love with someone.
The night I met him I hadn’t expected to meet anyone new. It wasn’t love at first sight, but then I don’t think there really is such a thing.
He got my e-mail address that night and we started chatting. Then we met up a week later again. Like the last time we met we were definitely flirting. This time I stayed at his place and we went further than just flirting.
I’ll never forget our first kiss. I was cold, he was warm, so I curled up next to him.
“With a pretty girl lying like that I’ll soon get warm in another way,” he said.

I can’t recall why but I just had to check if he was ticklish. Then he ended up kissing me.
“I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” he said.
“Before or after the tickle war started?” I asked him.
“Since last week,” he replied.
“If you’d kissed me last week I’d’ve kissed you back,” I said.
“Danm,” he said and kissed me again.

That was the start of a lot of drama but also the start of my first relationship.
We got together about two weeks after that, and it lasted for about three weeks.
He said he cared a lot for me, but it wasn’t the way you should care for a girl friend. I didn’t love him yet then, but I liked him, so that comment hurt. Still does if I think about it too much.
The rest he had to tell me didn’t really matter after that comment. He told me how he’d gotten close to cheating on me. He hadn’t done anything, but he’d been invited do do something and actually thought about accepting.

The day after we broke up, but we stayed in touch, I slept at his place when I didn’t have anywhere else to stay.
A month later we got back together.
This time I was too scared to really let my feelings do what they wanted. I wasn’t sure that it could work out. The time when we broke up was the closest I’ve ever been to getting my heart broken.
I was counting the days, I more or less expected it would end again when we’d passed roughly three weeks.
It didn’t. He fell in love with me. He said he’d never fallen this quickly for anyone before. It nearly scared him, but in a good way.

Later he told me he loved me. I’d built up a shell after the break up, that was when he got through it. Also I’m apparantly one of the best things that ever happened to him and there are very few things that mean more to him than I do.

I really love him. I can’t pin-point exactly what it is that makes me love him.. I guess it’s the mix of good things in him and the absence of bad ones.
Not that he completely lacks bad sides, but it’s not stuff like he’ll hit me, or cheat on me or other big things like that.

It’s stuff like he can forget to say please when he asks me about something so it sounds more like an order than a request.
Like if I bring up things he thinks we’ve been through he’ll be annoyed.
Like he’s on my case about homework.

It just doesn’t mean as much as the good things.

Stuff like if I’m sad he’ll hug me and try to make me happy again.
Like he can always make me smile.
Like when I call and wake him up it’s a good start to his day.
Things like he always have something nice to say to me.

I love him.. A lot!
And hearing him tell me he loves he makes me happy.
I trust him, he’s one of the people I trust the most. More than I ever trusted the moron I wrote about in an earlier blog. More than I trust my best friend.

There are a few things I might not tell him. Stuff like how I cried myself to sleep when we broke up. How I’ve been scared he’ll dump me.
I love him. I don’t want things to end, not now and not for a long time.
He makes me happy just by existing, and I hope I can make him happy too.