August 30, 2009

He in adorable green Kid Robot T, emblazoned with "LOVE," and I in striped T, emblazoned with the image of Marilyn Monroe, sat next to Joe D'Espinosa on glorious white leather sofas at the Norwood Club watching The Countess, a new friend, read and scream and sing and whisper pieces of her coming show "There's a Lot of Hate in Your Love."

None here though. None on that couch where I was brought to near tears, overwhelmed, by the swirling emotions inside, butterflies beating against the lining of stomach, waiting to fly free from my mouth in adulations, poems, blog posts, and sweet nothings. We stared each other down. Held one another closer. Completion of self in the arms of another.

I too only find myself when lost in someone else.

Hours earlier we chowed down on burgers and shopped for Alexander Girard bed linens and pillows. We hung painted portraits of drag queens. Bickered over how to hang shelves and measure walls. We laughed, fell down onto feathers, smiling and laughing. Anxious about the future. Excited by the prospects of falling deeper and deeper and giddy. Very giddy. Gleeful. Grateful to have found this bliss.

This Grace.

That is the word that keeps coming back to me. Grace. Beauty. Elegance. Simplicity in form, manner, motion, or action. In every interaction. In every body language uttering. In every glance across the room. In every smile. In every embrace. In every second of every minute of every hour of every day of every week of every month. Grace. Building. Shining. Not dulling.

Thursday's move was exhausting, yet exciting. Our apartment is colorful and eclectic. It's cheerful. Happy. Reflective.

Friday afternoon on Fire Island I was jealous of Matthew and Michael's embraces as we walked the beach to Cherry Grove. Friday night, after a few drinks and a few dances with Corey and Lina and Tanner and others I probably cannot remember, I called Georgi while Babst prepared what was to become a lovely dinner of charred steak. I was surrounded by fun people and good food and ecstatic music. Yet I was not home. Not complete. Not able to relax.

Georgi asked me what he could pick up for me at the grocery store. I made a simple request, coffee, and said goodnight. I ate and danced a bit more and at 11PM, when my housemates were gearing up to go out, I put myself to bed. And it hit me then and there how domesticated we'd become and how simple our life together has become. We've eased into a life living together.

Saturday AM I boarded the ferry and rushed back home and was greeted by the biggest brown eyes and teeth stretched across his face. And he said we're acting like a family unit. And we speak of being fathers, and of course, I have spoken about kids before with past loves, but this time, it is different. I think I do want kids. And that too excites me. Who am I?

The sweetest perfection. A perfect love. I hereby do swear to live my life in accordance with grace.