To be beloved is all I need,And whom I love, I love indeed.Samuel Taylor Coleridge(1772-1834)
How apt the quotation is for today. As usual, le boyfriend came over last night [as he had the previous nights, he's becoming quite a regular fixture in the house. I don't think Pop would've minded anyhow] and we were snuggling on the couch as we normally would, watching flicks from trusty old Mac. I fed him Pancit and Orange Chicken, well what's left of it anyway, for dinner as we cozied up once more and started talking. He is amazing, as boyfriends go but there's something about him that really stands out from the other dudes I've dated. With him, it's easy, effortless; he makes me feel comfortable to certain extent where I can be myself and not worry. Well, at least that's what he tells me although I still do tend to worry a lot. LOL. The comfort level between us has reached to a point where I feel like I could be completely honest with him. Heck, I even talk to him about my ambivalent thoughts towards Number 4. It sounds cruel I know, but he presses me to go on. He warrants complete honesty. No illusions or lies, but just honest brutal truth no matter how ugly or hurtful it is.
Last night though as he read the previous blog entry, I honestly thought he would get up and leave or get pissed about it. Instead he read it intently, calmly, looked at me straight in the eye and asked me, "do you want to know if I love you or not?" Caught offguard and surprised, I found myself staring dead straight and could not even look at him. I mean, all this time I thought he had reservations as to using the L-word and last night, I was proven wrong. He waited for my answer, took my hand and pressed it gently. I stalled for a while, thinking of a better way of putting things. He was waiting, so I finally caved and gave a weak, "yes?" His reply was unexpected. For a moment there, I actually sat motionless, still staring into dead space as I listened to the words that were coming out of his mouth. Open-mouthed, I think he was aware of how surprised I was and although his response wasn't perfect or what I wanted to hear, it was at the very least acceptable. There was a varying degree of truth in it.
He said he didn't know what LOVE is and that he could not tell whether or not what he felt toward me deserved the word. He continued by recounting that most of his fundamental years were spent watching TV and that his parents as busy as they were, weren't the best examples of it. He claims he grew up not knowing what constitutes love and how best to discern whether you love someone. He then reassured me that although he can't say that he loves me because he doesn't know what LOVE is, he knows these things for a fact: he loves being around me. If he could have his way, he'd be with me every day and night. He can't stop and won't kissing me. He wants me, needs me. If that doesn't merit love, then I don't know what is.
