Now Just One Sappy Moment...

I just read a really good book.

Now here's the thing--I read a lot of 'really good' books. But this one was special for a couple reasons.

1) I didn't actually check the price before I bought it. This is especially noteworthy because I can be a cheap-ass stingy motherfucker when it comes to treating myself. I haven't not checked the price on something in years.

2) It wasn't life-changing because it showed me a whole new world I never thought existed before...it was a reaffirming book. It was the paper-and-ink equivalent of a fuzzy blanket on a cold night. These books are rare, because for the most part I'm a pretty cynical bastard. But this one got to the soft side of me.

3) The rather large amount of money I spent on it (it did have patterns in it, which definitely makes it 'worth' the price, but that's besides the point) was justified, truly and deeply by two lines in it. $16 for two lines. And I'd pay it all over again if I had to, and I'd do it with a smile. See above statement admitting to cheap-assness for clarification of this breakthrough.

4) I stayed up til 2:30 in the morning to read it, which I also haven't done in a long time. I love reading. I am actually slightly addicted to reading (ok, very addicted, but at least this addiction occasionally improves my intelligence. Which is more than I can say for drinking, smoking, and doing other really stupid, yet hilarious, activities). But I realized some time ago that sleep is a precious, precious thing. The book will still be there tomorrow. But I can never again capture those couple hours.

But this book also made me treasure Erik anew. I hesitate to make any sappy proclamations before we've been together even six months, but when I walk into his arms, it is truly like coming home. Even when we go through rough times and I feel like my insides are ripping apart because just the thought of losing him scares the shit out of me, he is the one I trust, love and cherish. Even that time he called me manipulative.

The cynical part of me says I love him even when he's being a jerk because he realizes, on his own, that he was a jerk, thus saving me time and effort trying to explain it to him.

But even my cynical part (which is, admittedly, one of the largest parts of me) shuts the hell up when our eyes meet, he smiles that special smile he only shows me, and tells me I'm beautiful (even though my hair would frighten small children, I'm covered in shards of chips and there's a suspicious looking stain on my shirt because I just spent three hours eating chips, sour cream, salsa, and cheese (and I dropped sour cream on my shirt)(and the only reason I stopped eating is because I ran out of something), I'm wearing pants that don't fit right because I didn't want to dirty my nice ones, I haven't showered in two days, my teeth are grody and my socks are mismatched)....and I believe him. Because he really means it.

Also, he has agreed to watch musicals with me (even though he loathes them) and will warm my corpse-feet on his warm belly.

Now that, ladies and gents, is true love.