February 14th, as everybody knows, is Valentine’s Day. The general consensus on the celebration of this holiday is that if you’re taken, you make sure to shower your significant other in as much affection as you can. If you’re single… well, you’re fucked I guess. I never particularly harbored too much venom over all these years single on Valentine’s, but it’s hard to deny even the faintest nips of bitterness, even when it’s not at the forefront of your mind. It can be a difficult holiday to deal with due to the unpredictability of where you’ll be at that time. Single on Valentine’s is a “bad status” to have, and sometimes it can just feel like shit.
For the first time in my twenty years of existence, I don’t actually have that problem.
This year, I am lucky enough to be in a relationship with the most handsome, funny, intelligent, creative and charming guy I know. Admittedly we’re still at that point where what we have is still new and blossoming, but I can already tell that it’s unlike anything I’ve ever had before. He makes my heart feel… light. God, I feel lame saying this stuff where everyone can see. I hesitated to write this post for that exact reason, but something happened that made me realize that I had to write it. People should know how serious I am about this. I want people to know.
I’ve been burned before, and I’ve dealt my fair share of flame. As I’ve reiterated numerous times, my personal relationships are immensely meaningful to me, and as such, looking back on my failed attempts can be a little disheartening. It’s hard to simply ignore the past, but I can learn from it and keep it where it is; behind me. Of course I’m scared of what the future holds. Like aforementioned, the world is a wild and unpredictable place, but I can’t shake that intuition that this boy of mine is special. And he is. Oh man, he is.
For the sake of his own anonymity, I’m not going to name him in this post, but I’ve known him on some level for quite a few years now. He’d always been a vague presence in my life, a distant acquaintance that I’d hear bits and pieces about. For a long time, he didn’t even live in the area, but even when he returned, we never really talked. We only saw each other once a year, if that, and hardly exchanged more than a few words. We were acquaintances by association. Friends of friends.
I never thought much of it, until I did.
Last New Year’s Eve, at the dawn of 2017, I started to realize that there was more to him than meets the eye. I looked at him that night when I wasn’t supposed to be looking, and I panicked when I looked too hard. I saw a beauty inside him that night, one I’d never bothered to get close enough to him to see. I saw more of his personality– intelligence, ideals, humor; but back then, I was still hopelessly wrapped up in the illusion of having a certain someone I never could, and by the time I realized how stupid I’d been to be pining for all that time… It felt like it had to be too late. How was I supposed to follow up with someone I’d essentially blown off?
A year later, apparently. When I was ready. This time, the spark he ignited in me didn’t scare me.
In retrospect, I wish I hadn’t blown so much time on this now-irrelevant crush of mine as I did. Had I known then that one curly-haired boy at a party would be making me happy like this, I don’t think I could have resisted. I suppose it’s hard to justify a year spent alone when you know you could have had something better. But this post shouldn’t be about the past. It should be about the future. Our future.
Hindsight, as I learned the hard way, is certainly 20/20. The future is blind, but I’m ready to face it with him by my side. I’m not scared this time. I’m simply ready. The other day, sitting comfortably next to him where everything feels okay, he said to me, “I’m really excited. Just, for life.”
I don’t think I really knew that feeling until I met him, but I couldn’t agree more. I made allusions to a chromatic life in a recent post of mine, and he’s the most vibrant shade of all. To be able to walk along this rainbow with him is the best birthday present I could have gotten, and if I’m truly as lucky as they say the Irish are, there will be a glimmering pot of gold at the end.