Swim

Please God, don't let it be the beer.

I have so many choices, and I've steadfastly reminded myself of this over the years. I've purposefully avoided relationships in favor of being alone, stealing moments from people's lives in an almost-but-not-quite-selfish way.

Why him? Why is he different? It's not as if my wandering eye, my grass-is-greener-on-the-other-side has gone away. To the contrary. I have in fact flirted with semi-handsome Britishers, considered flirting with many other people. I've thought "if only I'd met them a few months ago" and then stopped and asked myself, when did I ever care about that?

I would've, I have in fact flirted, cheated, kissed, fooled around, on so many...why not him? It's not as if they ever (mostly) knew. Why not him?

Because he's him.

The last time I said those words, I thought that could be the only reason I could feel so much for someone so many years later. I didn't put the evidence in place to come to this conclusion, I just had no better explanation. And fully expecting that I would have some hugely tragic love story in my life, I assigned the word "love" to him....not at all knowing what love could possibly mean.

Love....love is an ocean. An ocean of love.

I know, I know. People have committed relationships every f*cking day and they don't blog about it. They don't pat themselves on the back and say what a fine thing it is, what a fine thing they are doing. But I do. I need to. The little accomplishments are what give us definition. And if a reformed commitmentphobe can't do it, who can?

Like I said, I deserve to say a few "I don't give a f*cks", and this my friends, is yet another reason why.