Well it’s October. Not that any of you needed to read this blog post in order to figure that out. I trust you’re smarter than that. And if per chance you aren’t, well, where have you been the last few days?! More importantly, how are you reading? Just sayin… But, seriously. It’s October? It feels like just last month I was packing to go to move to a different apartment in Chicago. And that was May 1st.
I’ve done a lot of reflecting this past month. I’m in a completely different place than I was last year. I never thought I would be here, and I couldn’t be happier. Everyone who has either followed my blog or knows me in real life is aware of the walls I built to keep people from hurting me and knowing about my life. I’m always really vague in any of my poetry, but every single poem is about someone. After all, isn’t the best writing done after heartbreak?
One of my goals this year was to become more comfortable with who am and to be able to blog about it. Not because I think people want to know about me. I’m not that interesting. Really, I’m not. But to be able to document moments in my life and be able to read them years later. One of the things that kept me from blogging about my life is the “No one cares” mentality. After I got over that, I realized that I’m not blogging for my audience – no offense guys. I still love my followers, especially if you’ve made it this far in this post. Kudos to you! – I’m blogging for me. If people find me interesting along the way, then sweet! I’m famous. No not really. And if no one likes what I write, then that’s a-okay with me.
See, the thing is: I’m a little shy when it comes to talking about feelings and emotions and the mushy-gushy things. As awful as this is, I think people relate more to the heartbreaks and the hard times that other people go through because not everyone has been able to experience good times or love or being truly happy. Everyone has been hurt. I think that’s why I’ve been hiding behind this wall. I’ve built it up for so long – since I was very little, seven years old, in fact – and once you fall into that trap of keeping quiet and becoming untrusting of others, it’s really hard to break.
So what changed?
I met a boy.
Yes, I met a boy. Typical. Megan met a boy. Not surprising, right? Except it is. And I’ll tell you exactly why.
See, this boy understands patience. He understands sarcasm. He understands grammar! Huge plus. He understands me. He didn’t try to be the one who was able to change me and break down my walls and then ride off into the sunset on a white horse… blah blah blah. Instead, and without me knowing it, I opened the door and let him in. I met him February 2012 at a bar. Yes, at a bar. One of my LEAST favorite places to go. I was DD that night and told my girl friend that I would take her wherever she wanted to go. So how could I tell her no? And that’s when I saw him. I wish I could say it was love at first sight, but then this would be a movie and not real life. I couldn’t pin-point exactly what it was about him, but I did appreciate the fact that he wasn’t sloppy drunk or hit on me. Especially since just a few moments prior, some drunk moron stumbled my way to say, “Did you know you have really blue eyes?” What? No way! They are blue??? I’ve had them for 26 years, and I’ve never noticed. How silly of me.
Side note: Guys, that pick up line doesn’t work.
To this day, my boy is the only one I have ever met at a bar and continued to see afterwards. Maybe if I actually had the guts to blog about these things a year ago, I would recall exactly what I was thinking. But, sadly, I did not. I just remember that he was tall and very charming. And those dimples. At this time, I was commuting from home to downtown Chicago and had very little free time on my hands. We met for coffee every Saturday. We talked about everything. Except love, previous relationships, heart breaks, or trauma. We told these tidbits and stories about each other’s lives. But yet, like the gentleman he is, he never tried to kiss me. He never even tried to hug me. Well, that’s when he was put into the friend zone. I moved down to Chicago and our coffee dates became infrequent, and eventually ceased altogether.
He dated someone else. I dated someone else. Except neither one of us told the other (at the time). Obviously I know now! Duh! The entire time, though, we kept in touch. Not often, but every couple of months we would text. And I would think about him. I became single in November, but we weren’t able to meet up until after the New Year. Not until February. I finally gave in.
It had been months since we’d seen each other face to face. I wasn’t sure what to expect. I had forgotten what color his eyes were. Don’t judge me. February 10th, 2013, exactly one year, to the date, of meeting each other, we finally realized how much we liked each other. We’ve been inseparable ever since.
And then I moved in with him in August.
Many of my friends were skeptical: “Really Megan? This is a bad idea.” “Are you sure this is a good thing to do?” “Girl, you haven’t even been dating that long.” “That isn’t going to last.” “I hope you know what you’re doing.” Yes, these were things coming from a lot (no not all) of my friends. Why couldn’t they just be happy for me? I’ve been the happiest I’ve ever been and they couldn’t support me. It really hurt to hear things like this. I forgave them, though. They just didn’t understand.
Ever since I’ve been younger, I’ve always asked “How do you know you love each other?” The response was always the same: “You’ll know when you know.” What the hell kind of a response is that? These people clearly do not know what they are talking about.
Well I was wrong.
And to anyone who I’ve ever made fun of for being happy, and being mushy-gushy with someone, or constantly talking about this crazy little thing called love – from the bottom of my heart, I’m so sorry. I understand now. I get it.
I was wrong and I’m sorry.
And to everyone who told me this was a bad idea to move in with him, I’m here to tell you that it wasn’t. I told you so. This has been the absolute best two months of my life. I live with my boyfriend and I still miss him during the day. I love being able to fall asleep with him next to me every night. I love every single mannerism that he has. I can’t get enough. He makes me smile on my worst days. He appreciates me. For the first time in my life, I feel like I have a true best friend. And how do I know? I just do. It’s that butterfly feeling I get when my Metra pulls up to the station and I know he’s waiting around the corner for me. It’s that feeling of being safe while falling asleep with his arms around me because no one can hurt me. There’s this deep connection of trust that I have with him that I’ve never felt with anyone else. It’s knowing that, no matter what, he’s there for me and he loves me and he makes me feel like I’m the only girl in the world.
Are you still reading? I’m sure I’ve lost a few…
But that’s when it hit me. It’s okay to open up to people and let them in. In small doses of course. I’m slowly being able to write more about my life and not worry about what others think about it. I’m able to have this confidence that I’ve never had before. I know my friends have noticed. They have told me. I’d only assume my family has noticed, too, but you’d have to ask them.
It’s a new chapter in my life that I’m so incredibly lucky to have, and I’m going to tell the world about it. He may or may not see this post, but that doesn’t matter to me.
So here’s to being 27 and finally being able to write without boundaries.