My last post was Jan 12
Holy moly that was 7 months ago, around one month before New Boy became Boyfriend, which came after 2-ish months of waffling between “I wait for no man” and “f*ck it, I’m waiting for this man.”
I’ll admit, a lot of why I stopped writing was because New Boy finally did become Boyfriend. And, well, Boyfriend makes me feel so safe and secure that the maelstroms of the mind that would typically drive me to feverishly commit thought to keyboard all but vanished into 7 months of smooth-brained sailing.
So, you might ask, why start writing again? What emotional thunderstorm has plagued my mind to finally end this Substack drought?
Well.
My Boyfriend’s birthday is today, and he thinks I write pretty, so I want to write something pretty for him.
Horribly unsexy, isn’t it?
If you feel like reading something a little bit more tormented and unhinged, please refer to my previous body of work.
Otherwise, proceed with caution. This is a public love letter. Feel free to wait until my next post.
Happy birthday, Boyfriend
Thank you for swiping right on me first. Thank you for responding to every single one of my Hinge prompts, and thank you for still replying to my second text even though my first one was something stand-offishly snobby like:
“lol wtf you wrote so much I’m not gonna read this.”
I’m not sure if I was just that hot or you were just that bored, but thanks for liking me enough to respond when I finally messaged you again.
I never mentioned this to you, but after our first round of messages, I fell so deeply in “like” with your humor, I went back and read that wall of text I said I would never read, and damn. You were funny, and you still are.
Thanks for always making me laugh.
Happy birthday, Boyfriend
I don’t want to write too much because I suspect I’ve signed myself up for a lifetime of writing birthday blogs for you now, so I’ll just end with the memory I have of falling in love with you.
April 28, 2023, we went to an antiquarian book fair on a rainy Saturday afternoon. I arrived late, as usual, and we only had one hour to zip through the entire venue. But, it was somewhere in that one hour of holding your hand, caught in the magic of books, history, and your hotness, that the falling in love started. I honestly can’t express exactly what it was. I remember walking in seeing you in your hoodie with your bomber jacket on top thinking “damn. I really like the layered look.” I remember one of the book sellers letting us touch pages far far older than our measly years. And, honestly, I just remember having plain ol’ simple fun - scouring the venue like a scavenger hunt, looking for books with cool animal pictures.
Dinner was good too! We got Indian food - I think it was chicken tikka masala, and I think we also talked a bit about communication styles. That’s all I remember from dinner, but I thought we communicated the same. That made me like you more.
Had I fallen in love with you at dinner? I don’t think so. Would it be weird to say if it happened while I was in the bathroom? I remember it so distinctly. We were cuddling, and I got up to use the restroom. When I was washing my hands, I looked in the mirror, I just felt it. Does that make sense? I just knew it, and well, I had to tell you, because I knew you loved me too.
So, I did, and now I’m here, 4 months later, telling you I fell in love with you in a bathroom.
I’m a terrible romantic.
Happy birthday, Boyfriend
I love you!