Today’s post was brought to you by Boyfriend.
Yesterday, while chatting to Boyfriend and bemoaning the fact that I had no idea what to post about, he mentioned that I should blog about the fact that I love him. You might think that’s a joke – but it’s really not. The exact conversation went exactly like this:
Me: I have no idea what to blog about.
Me: Also, I love you
Boyfriend: Blog about that then.
Me: Blog about the fact that I love you?
Of course, I agreed – and then spent the whole day pondering how I would tackle blogging about the fact that I love my boyfriend. How lame is that really? Dedicating an entire post to your squishy feelings for your significant other. It’s made worse by the fact that I’ve posted before about keeping your love life off Facebook – and therefore, the internet – and the fact that I just think it’s fucking lame and no one wants to read about the fact that I think my boy is the shiznit.
Then I decided…
If I want to dedicate a blog post to spewing rainbow flavoured romantic vomit about why the sun shines out of my boyfriend’s eyeballs, then I’m gonna do it. Fuck how lame it is. This blog is lame anyway. So here it is:
What Doubles as An Open Letter to Boyfriend:
or why Ke thinks that Boyfriend is the greatest thing since Nutella covered sushi wrapped in sex, beer and cigarettes.
It’s going to messy and it’s mostly a ramble, but you know what? I donut even care.
So I’ve been pretty much head over heels for my boy since I met him just over a year ago. We met in a bar. Now, I’ve always been quite staunchly gay, only ever venturing away from the vagina when I was far too drunk to care about anything other than the fact that I was getting laid – and I’ve never really been emotionally attached to guys. They’re fun to hang out with, but I’ve always dated exclusively girls.
Then Boyfriend came along, with his awesome hair and his nose-ring and general adorkableness, and.. yeah.
Considering we talk more shit than an entire auditorium full of stoners, we often stumble onto some rather weird and weighty topics – one of them being, why relationships fail. Like any new couple, we’ve got our fears that one day, one of us will push the other over the edge and the relationship will go down in a catastrophic and fiery blaze of glory – something neither of us want. So obviously, we talk about it all the time. I think part of what I love so much about Boyfriend is that he seems to have a lot of the same fears that I do; not even just about the relationship – about life in general. Being able to share something as personal as fear, and knowing that whoever you’re sharing it with actually understands.. That’s a big thing.
The fact that we talk a lot is another thing I love about him. It’s obvious to me that he’s my best friend – because I don’t think there’s a single thing that I can’t (or don’t) tell him. Even the stuff I feel like I shouldn’t tell him, or the things I’ve never told anyone else… Big, scary things. He knows all of them. And we talk about the weather and war and poodles and why the sky is grass is green and billy goats and poetry and literature and art and photography and music and people and business and life and kids… We talk about everything.
We drink together, but we don’t need to be drinking to have fun – which has been a problem in some of my past relationships. I really appreciate the fact that we can have calm fun just talking, walking or go full-retard and just be childishly happy and chasing each other through the house. I like that there’s no pretence with us – neither of us needs to impress the other, or hide aspects of our personalities, or our behaviours. Whatever we do alone, we can do around each other.
I love his hair. I don’t think he realises just how much I love his hair.
I love it when he hugs me. I could hug him all day, and sleep-hugging is the best; falling asleep with his arm around me and my head on his chest is pretty much the best thing since… well.. ever. And when I’m upset – Jeez. There’s never been a person who’s been able to calm me down so quickly with nothing more than a hug.
That’s another thing I appreciate about him – he can deal with me when I’m upset, and he actually makes an effort to understand what’s going on. Not even I understand what’s going on, but he tries.
And I love it that he can come to me when he’s upset – I love that I can help him deal with problems and that he actually listens to my advice. I love that he can be fragile around me, without putting up this macho bullshit barrier that all guys seem to have. I love it when we can sit and be calm and talk about what’s been upsetting us, or how our day is going, or who’s irritating us today or what was great.
I’m not even going to bother mentioning the smoking together, going out for sushi, drinking beer outside or standing on the train platform together, though I love all of those things too. I love that he takes the train with me.
I love that we’re similar, but totally different and that we can disagree about something without fighting. I love that we like the same music, a lot of the same foods and enjoy some of the same things. I love that we’re different enough to be interesting to each other without being totally incomprehensible. I fucking love that little crinkly thing his eyes do when he smiles at me.
I love the way he dresses – even when he’s dressing like a colour-blind hobo with no fashion sense and depth-perception issues. I love how comfortable he is around me, and how comfortable I am around him. I love that he does dress like a hobo – I’m not quite sure why, but I love that he’s just so uncaring about what other people think – without being aloof and hipster-like.
Sitting around writing and reading and watching television without ever worrying about whether I need to entertain him is great.
His hands. Dear lord, I love his hands. No, get your mind out of the gutter – they’re just fucking beautiful. I could write a sonnet about his hands.
I love that he lets me take pictures of him and that he spazzes to me about musicthings that I don’t understand and that he lets me ramble on for hours about photography.
What I love the most – and it’s something I’ve just now realised – is that I love him, because I love him so much that this blog post could go on for hours without me stumbling into something I would change about him.
I’m going to shut up now, because I really have to get back to work – but hey look; I blogged about how much I love my boyfriend. Okay, I blogged about what I love about my boyfriend – how much I love him is obvious. I’m going to go hang my head in quasi-not-really-shame and continue spewing mindless copy for the company I work for. Fun.
To make this post even more gag-worthy and covered in spaz, here’s another photo: