Meet "J"

I'm scared as I sit here in my bed writing this post. I've never been so scared to post anything here. It's ironic, huh? Of all the things I've said here, shared here - this is what scares me. The reason what I'm about to write scares me is because there's always a chance in life something won't work out. Won't be happily every after. If that happens - if I wake up one morning to find myself alone and heartbroken, I'll always have this post. These words. These emotions. This reminder. That's a chance I take every time I write. That these words will live on forever and inevitably so, too, will the emotions. But, since I'm too honest - and too much of an optimist - I'm going to take that chance. I'm going to share these words - these feelings - despite the risk.

I realized the other day that most people who read this blog know me well. My thoughts, fears, weaknesses and strengths. You know my laugh and my tears. But, despite the numerous posts that revolve around him, most don't really know "J". And, since he's so quickly become such an important part of my existence, I thought it only made sense to properly introduce him.

The first time I met him, it was his passion. His laugh. His smile. His blue eyes. He listened to me. Wanted to know me. Really know me. As I got to know him, I quickly saw how much he loves his family. With everything he has. Despite the pain and imperfection. They are part of him, and that's all he needs to know. Seeing them altogether is like nothing I've ever seen before. The love. The respect. It's something I long to achieve with my own family - both living and yet to be born. The first time I met "Little J", I saw a deep love I'd only known from my own parents. She feels safe with him. He is so proud of her. It's a mutual respect so precious. He trusted me from the very first moment we met with the most precious thing he will ever know. Maybe he saw the way I fell in love with her within 5 minutes. Maybe he didn't know what else to do.

He still listens to me. He can read my mind and know what I'm thinking before I say it. He loves my family. Despite the pain and imperfection. He has helped me see things in them I forgot existed. Goodness and strength and love that were hidden by pain. If for nothing else, I am grateful for that. He wants to protect me from pain and will go to whatever lengths it takes to prevent me from feeling any of it. I swear if he could he would take it all for me.

He makes me laugh. He tells terrible jokes. At inappropriate times. And I crack up. He makes himself crack up. Which makes me laugh that much harder. He still surprises himself every time he realizes he's funny. He recently started to snort when he laughs. My boyfriend snorts. Sigh. He's not afraid to sing out loud. He even likes when I sing (to clarify, quietly to myself). He makes me face my fears. I both hate him and love him for that.

He makes me dinner. With music and candlelight. He lets me steal the covers and bury my bum into his body. Without complaining.

He loves my friends. He's interested in their stories. Their kids. Their dates. Their beliefs. He wants to know them. And me through them. He wants to spend time with them and never complains about the countless stories of "yesterday" we tell. He doesn't know the names, places, emotions - but knows it is important to me. So he humors me. And I love him for that.

He's my very best friend. He calms me when I am out of control. And makes me smile when I'm sad. And holds me when I'm feeling hopeless. Or just for no reason at all.

Right now I'm sitting in our bed as he's watching sports downstairs. You can't pull him away from his sports - no matter what the emergency. I even love that.

I'm going to drift off to sleep now. I feel better knowing the people I care most about will have at least a snapshot of this man that has changed my life forever. Who knew that less than a year ago he was just waiting for me to move in across the street?? I like to think that even if we did, neither of us would have done anything different.