This borderline-obsessive thing goin on with them heavy things, I fear, might start to sound redundant to yall folk not witnessing the First Draft. Correct me if I'm wrong, but aint nobody wanna read about the thrice-weekly primary accounts of the love forming between me and the 45-lb Bar. These particular entries are not unlike the minutely detailed infatuations between two people in the Initial Relationship Phase (IRP).
Indeed, I am experiencing similar symptoms of IRP:
- The always wanting to (and, dare I say, expecting* to) hang out during every minute of my not-at-work time**.
- The getting childishly upset when the planned hang-out time can't happen for one (usually absurd: who sets up work meetings 40 MINUTES before they're supposed to happen!?, rarely understandable: "My [insert name of close relative or friend] just [insert plausible excuse, but it'd better be life-threatening]. Can I see you tomorrow?." ) reason or another.
- The heightened pulse rate, slight shortness of breath, and big, goofy grin at the mere thought or mention of The Object.
- The "There Is a Light That Never Goes Out" lyrics on repeat in my head and sometimes aloud (and, more recently, the Michael Cera & Ellen Page cover of "Anyone Else But You").
- The letter-writing. For smothering purposes, of course. I'm fulfilling this particular IRP by writing long-ass personal emails, usually about The Object, to just about everyone on my radar who breathes... BUT only if the anticipated Eventual E-mail Response Rate (EERR) is two weeks MAXIMUM.
Perhaps when I decide that more energy is being expended on The Object than The Object is throwin back in my direction (I'm gonna need mutual reciprocation, eventually), and things between us start to get stale and crusty, I'll move along to the Other topics. Until then, I just can't get enough. And I'm gonna write about it.
*Ah, expectations. When I was barely old enough to have my own cell phone (22), a wise, powerful woman once told me that the key to Happiness is to let go of all expectations. She's probably right, but today, I wonder, where do you draw the line between Expectations and Standards? What's the difference? There is a lot to say about both of those subjects, but, as usual, it's for another post and another day. I wouldn't wanna steal The Object's thunder.
**Ah, how far I've come from my previous IRP! These days, I can fully embrace the idea of Separate Space. Before, in the IRP, I was all THERE IS ONLY SHARED SPACE. We're Together, so we should be TO-GETHER. However, it is already apparent, after just three months, that this particular relationship with The Object can and WILL only get better. The magic's real (and I'm usin it, baby!). It's also infinite. And we only spend three hours together every week. A little more (tack on an extra hour, two tops) might be slightly more oppressive, but the rewards, I imagine, would be almost immediate. I'm definitely not ready for that kind of commitment, but ask me again in a few months. Maybe then we'll know if love can move mountains.