What it Means to Wake Up in Love
I roll over in bed. Then I roll back the other way. I can’t get comfortable; the blankets are twisted around my leg and my hair is in my face and, Jesus, why is it so hot? Even though I keep my eyes closed, I feel him there. He slowly, gently unwraps the blankets from my legs. Then his hand goes to my face, where he wipes the sweaty hair away and tucks it behind my ears. I hear him get up and walk quietly over to the window, opening it as slowly as possible. He does that because he thinks I’m still sleeping and doesn’t want to wake me.
We go out to eat. I am talking fast about something; I always talk fast when I really want to tell a story. He is smiling and nodding along. Since I’m not paying attention, what I have in my fork somehow doesn’t make it to my mouth and ends up all over my shirt. Naturally, I think to myself, embarrassed by my lack of grace. “Wow, that piece of spaghetti really looks good there, they should introduce that into the fall line, will definitely be the next big thing.” He says, being goofy. He’s trying to make me laugh. He’s trying to make me not feel bad about spilling. It works.
I’m standing in front of the mirror. My stomach and thighs are definitely looking bigger than they did a year ago at this time. I have been on a diet of cheeseburgers after work at midnight and beer always. When I go to the gym, I usually get distracted by which playlist to have on my iPod. Regretting all of these things as I turn and look at my body from a different angle. He comes up behind me and puts his arms around my waist. He kisses my cheek. “You look sexy” he says as he holds me tighter. He calls me sexy because that’s what I need to be called right then. Not beautiful, not cute, but sexy.
I’ve worked all day and I can’t seem to move from my couch. I am so tired, so overwhelmed. I don’t know what I’m doing with my life and I could really just cry. He takes my hand in his. He sits next to me. He doesn’t talk, doesn’t try to give me advice, he just lets it be. He lets me be overwhelmed, while letting me know he is right beside me. When I’ve calmed down, he offers me a beer and a back massage. Not because he necessarily feels like getting me a beer or giving me a back massage, but because he knows that’s exactly what I feel like.
I’m jealous of a girl he’s friends with. I don’t know why, I can’t explain it, it’s so silly and I know it, but I am. It makes me upset and I get angry with myself for being insecure enough to be jealous. He doesn’t call me crazy, he doesn’t get mad, and he doesn’t laugh at me. He listens to me.
I’m nervous around his family and close friends. I want them to like me as much as possible, because I like him more than I ever thought possible. I get anxious. He puts his arm around my waist. He laughs at my jokes, nodding encouragingly. As we walk away, he leans in and whispers, “they love you.”
He’s the first to be genuinely good to me. The first to not try to bring me down. The first to not intentionally hurt me. I didn’t think he existed until I met him. I go to bed in love and I wake up in love.
Kaitlyn Seabury | News Cult