Nate and I are just really stinkin’ happy. It’s a little weird, a little surprising, and a whole lot of awesome. Maybe it’s pathetic that, at 34-years-old, I’m enjoying my first healthy, emotionally-mature, genuinely happy relationship. I mean, I’ve been happy with other men — a shout-out here to Mike, who still kicks ass — but I don’t think I’ve been in the right place, in my own life and mind, to create the right relationship until now. Nate and I are real good. It’s totally foreign to me, and I love it.
Of course, who knows…I’ve been through enough crap in my life to know that everything could go down the shitter tomorrow. But I doubt it, in this case. I feel respected and trusted and cared for and listened to and appreciated and loved — for exactly who I am, exactly the way I am. It’s freeing and wonderful, and it makes me appreciate my Nater more and more every single day. It’s good. Real good.
