30 Days of Truth: Day Twenty Seven

Day Twenty Seven - What’s the best thing going for you right now?

There's no guessing about this one, no question about it. My relationship with Steve is the best thing I've got going for me right now. It's the best thing I've ever had going for me. Ever.

I know some of you expected me to say art, artistic creativity, something like that. That's just stuff I do. Stuff I do passionately, yes, but still... just stuff I do. Sure, it feels good, but there's really no choice in it for me. I have to create or I'm miserable.

Steve. What do I say about him without sounding pretentiously smarmy, without making all of my readers run screaming for an insulin shot? He's wonderful. He's a great man. He's a good man. He's funny and sweet and strong and charming and caring and handsome and intelligent and... a thousand other superlative adjectives that fall short of who and what he is to me. All the adjectives sound hackneyed, feel gloppy, and taste like saccharin.

I can't believe I get to be with him. Really. Most days, at least once, I catch myself looking at him and thinking, "How did I get here? How did this kind of tremendous fortune find me?"

It's not that I feel undeserving. It's... um... how do I explain it? It's as if I was tumbling down a rocky mountainside with nothing to grab onto, no mercy in sight. Suddenly I landed, somehow, crazily, in a soft meadow, took a look around only to be utterly amazed that not only was I not dead, but relatively unhurt. And there was this man, standing there in the sun just waiting to help me up. Just waiting to care for me. Waiting to love me.

Stuff like that just doesn't happen. It feels like a fairy tale, and I feel silly and naive for even saying that. But I'm not silly and naive. And it's not a fairy tale. It's all real - the relationship, the love, the life together - and it's the best thing I've ever experienced. The very best.

I love this man named Steve. I adore him. He's my lover. He's my best friend. His touch leaves me breathless. The look in his eyes is my anchor.

I have a favorite thing I like to do and say. We typically drift off to sleep with his arm around my shoulders, my head on his chest, and my hand resting on his ribs. As we drift away, I say in my sleep-diving voice, "Know what my favorite time of day is?" His nearly slumbering query rumbles, "Hmmm...?" I say, "This exact moment." And he hugs me tighter.