Again, a willing participant of some writing fabulousness through my fantastic Trojan blood sister Amy.
Day One, February 10: Who you love.
This is a love letter to anyone. Or no one in particular.
This is not so much of a love letter but a confession.
I am a closet romantic.
There. Iâ€™ve said it. I think you already know that, given that you know me all too well.
I guess I used to be a full on romantic like any typical girls are. I still lapse in to fits of romantic conniption fit after viewing a chick flick, a sweet moment in a TV show, or reading participants of Februarariumâ€™s love letters. A girly girlâ€™s dream of a prince charming sweeping me off my feet, taking me to the bed of roses in a room filled with lit candles and a crackling fireplace, wrapping me up in a bearskin, feeding me Godiva honey-almond truffles and champagne, rubbing my weary feet, and going grocery shopping and picking up dry cleaning while I take my luxurious napâ€¦
Anyways. Lifeâ€™s lessons have helped me suppressed that need for the sweet nothing in exchange for a hearty realistic feeling.
Why should Valentineâ€™s Day be the only day to â€œshow our loveâ€ to each other? A vase full of flowers only means more cleaning up to do in a few days and another piece of thing we have to find space for. Candies, more jiggliness to your belly and my ass. Special dinner, one more month to getting out of debt.
I feel love when I leave the house in the morning to your sleepy kisses or your energizing pat in the butt on the way out the door. I feel love when I return from my long commute to a smile on your face from whatever it is you have been doing since you get home. I feel love from you everyday when you reach for a slumbering mass that is me in the morning to cuddle after we hit our snooze button. I feel love when we curl up on a couch for ultimate geeky Friday, watching Stargate SG-1, Stargate Atlantis, Battlestar Galactica, and yes, even switching over to Joan of Arcadia so I could catch up. I feel love when you hit the pre-heat button on my side of the electric blanket while leaving me alone to write my blog. I feel love when you introduced me to the electric blanket. I feel love when you turn up the heater to 75F so I could be comfy while youâ€™re sweating your butt off.
I feel love because you decide to keep me after all the tribulations we have gone through lately.
Holy shit. Did I just fall of the practical-not-romantical wagon!?
I love you. You know it, and I know it. What more do we need?
Eternally yours…well, unless you achieve nirvana and leave me in the rebirth cycle all by myself.
Thank you for participating, Oakley!