Neither of us can predict at such an early stage whether or not things will continue to work out.That being said, falling in love with him has been, and continues to be, glorious fun.
After all, promise is broken often, once two people move from the cyber-fantastic world of virtual infatuation, into the harsh reality of real-world chemistry.While the sudden and ominous darkness can be disconcerting, the benefits of the phenomenon quickly flood your senses.The clouds provide the relief of shade, the surrounding mass of hot, stifling air has begun to rise and the Earth begins to cool.While I do value him greatly and consider him a "catch," the fishing metaphor doesn't adequately describe the situation.Finding myself in a relationship with Chris (the name he goes by other than boyfriend =-) has felt much more like getting caught in a summer drizzle..know, the ones that start in the middle of a sultry sun-drenched day. The next, a foreboding cumulonimbus has moved in, shrouding the glaring light.Both of us are in our late 30s and, as such, have had to learn how to move on from failed relationships in the past.
Should we have to do the same again, if things don't work out, I'm sure we both will.He doesn't seem to mind that I think a lot, talk and write a lot, do a lot, know a lot and feel a lot; moreover, while we are kindred spirits in this way, he seems prepared to handle a lot.As I lavish my attentions on him, I know that he both appreciates and reciprocates. I have some news for all of you who have been reading about my prehensile perseverance of love, despite all the disastrous dates, the specious suitors and the desultory dopes upon whom I have pinned my hopes: I'm having in my love life.In my post called "Why I'm Not a Catch..." from May 07, 2006, I said, "getting caught isn't what I'm looking for." Well, I guess there's at least some truth to the theory that you sometimes find something faster when you stop looking for it.Looking up, it seems as though someone has dipped a paintbrush swollen with dark paint into the mix, as billows of grey and black swirl in the sky, that only moments before had appeared whitewashed by the sun.