The power of love

This post has been simmering for the last days, I have been meaning to write it, but didn't find time to, or when I did, didn't quite find the words. Finally, I am at work after another unremarkable did in which I hardly worked at all (save for a budget related meeting and drafting a letter), there is great weather outside, P. is off somewhere, presumably playing pool, and the building seems to be quite. Everybody's gone off to enjoy the weather, which, typically, should only last TILL the weekend...

But what I have been thinking, or rather feeling, that is just so hard to explain. A kind of overwhelming thankfulness, peacefullness, despite the imperfections of things, a gratefuleness that I have a partner (!) who doesn't make a fuss about sleeping apart most nights (because we sleep better that way, even though now we share the same apartment), who is always smiling and seems to be in a good mood, who spent an hour yesterday helping me to dye the gray roots of my hair in the careful way in which men seem to treat any task that they are facing, only to find out that he forgotten about and missed the UEFA cup final and that Milan won, poor guy! who is going to drive with me to Gent next weekend to meet my parents, then back up here with my mom, who went to the huisartz and asked for a HIV test just like that, saying that his girlfriend is positive, as though that was the most natural thing in the world (it should be, but I know that it isn't) and is again doing the whole STD panel, just not to put me at risk, who says it is just as good with condoms as it is without and means it, who is warm and cuddly and big and strong and patient and funny, who takes care of me when I am sick and cleans the oven and cooks whenever I don't, who makes love to me on a regular basis but is not oversexed, and is the most irresistable combination of masculinity and patience, who is .... Godamn it, I am just SO IN LOVE with this guy. And I don't love him because of the things he does for me or the things he does for the relationship, I love him for what he is, I love him for his little hangups too, I love him for being laidback and sloppy and imperfect, I love him for not being a metrosexual, and for not thinking that anything is a big deal, and for listening, and for laughing, and for teasing, and for being honest about what he can and cannot do. This is just a small random sample of the things I love about P., because like all of us he is a whole greater than the sum of his parts. This is the real deal, and it's not nearly as dramatic or painful as I thought it would be. Any stress in our relationship is injected by external components such as the temporary nature of our emloyment and the fact that he might have to relocate. But the love itself is just so calm, warm, and essential, that it makes everything easier. It makes me forget that I am sick, it makes me forget that I am what many might consider a fuckup and a lost cause, it makes me live with my flaws, and his, and those of the world, in real acceptance. I don't know if it is like this because I learned to accept that love is not perfect and it shouldn't be, or that my own pain and hunger are not things I should fight but should accept, or that what is growing between me and P., that essence, is what gives me this power, and what enables me to reach out to others, whether they are friends, collegues, or strangers on the net, without exuahsting my resources, with accepting my limitations, with just being what I am, as I am....