The Birthday Present and I have been in a relationship for almost a year now. The first six months before that don't count, since we "sort of" broke up for a month in between, but I think we have determined since sometime in March of last year, we've been "back together".
Of course, while it was all happening, neither of us would dare to call it anything, or make a big deal about it, or even talk about what we were doing with each other. We just sort of did it. We had decided to be "just friends", and I truly thought that's how it was going down. But everytime we hung out as friends, I was just a leeetle too excited to see him, just a leeeetle to eager to touch him somehow, kiss him goodbye smack dab on the mouth, wear clothes that were a leeetle too low cut. You know how it is.
He went to New Orleans last year during Valentine's weekend. I sent him a picture of my boobs, you know, so it would seem like I was there for Mardi Gras right there with him. What a good friend I am!
The shit hit the fan when we went to see Muse together, tickets we had bought before we broke up. And since we were all friendy and shit, of course we were going to go together! And since we had such a good time at the show, we were gonna hang out after and have drinks. And since he lives a block from the venue, it would only make sense to go back to his place and watch movies. And since we were lying in the dark in his bedroom, it would only make sense to get naked and have the best sex we'd ever had (and the one thing we always had was good sex) because I mean don't YOU all do that with all of your friends?
I just remember waking up the next morning and never wanting to leave. In all the time we had dated for the six months prior, I never remembered feeling that way. Something was different, I'll never know how or why, but hot damn I was going to have more of this sex with the Birthday Present and still be able to maintain our cool and easy friendship.
Fast forward to this past Halloween. We are crazy about each other. We are calling each other boyfriend and girlfriend, openly, to each other and our friends. I couldn't be happier, except for one thing. I'm pretty sure I've fallen in love with bastard, in fact, I've known it for months. Probably since like May. I knew I couldn't say anything, wouldn't say anything, it was the biggest secret I have ever had to keep.
So I'm pretty sure this guy loves me too, I'm 99.9% sure that he does, but you can't exactly shake someone and smack them into confessing their love for you. Although it almost came to that.
He'd keep saying weird things like "good thing I like you so much" although one night we had a fight about something and I said something like "If I didn't give a shit I wouldn't be so mad. And I really, really give a shit". And he said "I really give a shit about you too, Cheese". And I thought to myself, "I think in a weird way that only two people as dysfunctional as we are could do, we might have just said 'I love you'" But that doesn't really count.
So Halloween night, we went to this party at The Bell House, and it was awesome with writhing, dancing, sweaty costumed people, and disco lights, and loud thumping bassy music. You could barely hear anyone talk, but at one point, Birthday Present said that horrid little phrase again..."It's a good thing I like you so much." I just lost my shit. Like a lunatic. I started yelling over the bassy music that I knew just how much he liked me, he didn't need to keep reminding me. He looked genuinely shocked. "You know I say those things to be funny, right?" he asked me?
Uh, no. No, I didn't.
I told him I had no idea how he felt about me, and he looked at me in utter shock. Right there, under the disco ball, over the bassy music, my Birthday Present said "you know that I love you, Cheese." Very matter of factly, as if he were telling me he had a splinter.
Uh, no. No, I didn't.
I started to cry. I mean, the man is confessing his love for me, finally. Even though he thought he already had. He swears up and down that he has said it before. I asked him "do you think I'd be crying like this if you'd said this to me before? You have never said this to me before." And then we proceeded to have an argument about whether he had or hadn't said "I love you" to me before, over the bassy music, under the disco ball.
He concluded, "Do you think I would deal with your craziness if I DIDN'T love you?"
Touche, I guess.