Yesterday I went to the beach with my stop-being-a-bitch-and-just-admit-that-even-if-he's-not-your-boyfriend-now-he-soon-will-be - boyfriend. And it was warm and perfect and filled with eye-gazing and rough but warm waves and the type of light slight sunburn that makes your cheeks rosy and your heart soar upon the sun's setting and the realization that you, finally, have spent a day perfectly.
We drove back home at that sunset and I had a real "oh my god" moment on the bridge connecting Long Island to Fire Island. He put on this song by Arcade Fire (I'd never listened to them before) and we both looked so golden and beautiful and innocent and blissful in that warm evening light, listening to this new song which makes my heart feel like it's simultaneously starving for more energy and bursting at the seams with love- it made me want to scream to him "I love you! How do you not know that already?"
But then the Carrie Bradshaw in my head starts narrating, "But can it be love if it's not constant?"

This has been a very confusing relationship, to say the least, simply because I am still very much hurting from the end of my last relationship (which was consequently my first, real loving partnership) and because I can be very guarded and insincere at times. People sometimes ask how it's going with this new guy and I usually respond with "how could you not fall in love with someone who you spend so much time--romantic, sexual, and comforting--with?" in a very cynical, scientific, and overwhelmingly cold manner.

I've only been a good girlfriend once. I want so badly to be good to him. It's hard realizing that some people just do not and will not bring out the best in you. Whose fault is that?
Sometimes the idea of being with ANYONE who is not one of the glory-boys of my romantic past makes me cringe and get genuinely upset. As you know, I love to compare and find faults in everyone. I've been doing that so intensely and maniacally with him when I'm not in his presence (and therefore have free reign to overthink everything). Even in his presence, when we're out with groups of friends sometimes he drives me nuts... but when I am with him--just me and him--there's never been any question. It's like the Allen Ginsberg poem:
"We're not our skin of grime, we're not our dread bleak dusty imageless locomotive: we're all beautiful golden sunflowers inside, we're blessed by our own seed and golden hairy naked accomplishment-bodies growing into mad black formal sunflowers in the sunset..."
He's wonderful, there isn't an ounce of asshole in him (I've NEVER witnessed this strange trait in anyone before), and I am so very lucky to have him in my life right now.

I hope that wasn't too revealing.


-Camille