I always dreaded the thought of growing old. Everyone does at one point or another. But I thought that it would just be impossible for me. With the way my health is, I kept telling myself that I would be lucky to make it over the age of 40. But it didn’t matter to me. I never expected to share my life with someone anyway, and I wasn’t exactly ecstatic about my future. I saw myself continuing to be a nerdy, half-hermit, single and absolutely mediocre person.

But, as with many things, it changed. This viewpoint, however, was something I thought I could never give up. No matter how hard I tried, I found it increasingly more difficult to cling onto whatever hope I had left. Yet somehow, he got to me.

For once in my entire life, I felt truly loved. Every single part of me – loved. Simply that. Not enough words and cliches can describe the way this feels, and my heart no longer belongs to me. I’m learning to let myself go, and it’s an achingly beautiful pain that stays with my day by day. To worry for someone else, to care for them, to happily sacrifice pieces of yourself to make things work…

This. And so much more. For the first time, I want to grow old. I want to grow old with the only man I have ever fallen in love with, and it’s painful to hope that my body won’t fail me. But I tell myself that whether or not we can lie together, embracing our wrinkles and our wisdom, I have been the happiest I have ever been in my entire life.

Scene 1:

Jen: You need my heals. And I actually enjoy being a healer.
Paul: Well, we can’t go without a tank.
Jen: You can go DPS.
Paul: No. No one’s good enough to tank.
Jen: Fine, I’ll tank. And I’ll show you I can have fun doing it.
Paul: LOL.
Jen: Whatever, being a healer is just as necessary to a group.
Paul: Tank is harder.
Jen: Don’t complain then; you’re voluntarily playing a tank.
Paul: No. I love you.


Scene 2:
Jen: Why can’t we just play the one game we agreed on?
Paul: My friends play multiple games. I’m trying to keep up.
Jen: Fine, but at least spend some time with me on the game WE agreed to play.
Paul: I’m trying to level.
Jen: Catch up to me. I want to run a dungeon together!
Paul: I can’t believe we fight over this.
Jen: I love you.

Scene 3:

Jen: Wow, every time we lane together… I just can’t…
Paul: What?
Jen: I get no creep kills. So at least let me get the last shot on the hero.
Paul: I can’t just stop auto attacking.
Jen: Yes you can.
 I already give you full farm.
Paul: Why would I do that?
en: So I can get the… ugh, never mind.
Paul: You still get gold.
Jen: Yeah but not as much. I need AD. I’m the carry.
Paul: LOL. No.
Jen: WHAT…

It’s been awhile since he’s fallen asleep on the phone with me. They’re total accidents but so oddly comforting. I’ve been spoiled beyond belief, being able to wake up to his handsome face every morning. So just knowing he’s on the other side of the phone right now eases me into the night.

I guess I should explain…

I have a horrible tendency of waking from night terrors. I remember every dream I have, and they’re usually not very pretty. But he never fails to bring my mind back into the amazing reality of everything that is him. He effortlessly finds me in the dark, and in my dreams, I can feel the moments when he comes in and battles my monsters. I suppose it seems silly and childish, borderline weird maybe. But every time he lulls me back to sleep, I feel like I’m being saved by my favorite hero and it never gets old.

“I am nothing special, of this I am sure. I am a common man with common thoughts and I’ve led a common life. There are no monuments dedicated to me and my name will soon be forgotten, but I’ve loved another with all my heart and soul, and to me, this has always been enough.”

So, I’m pretty sure my immune system has -99 armor, and no one else I know could possibly rival that. On Monday, I had a high fever of about 102, and my abdominal pain has been increasingly painful.

Now, I could complain and whine because the pain is pretty excruciating. But I’m ignoring that just to document the most adorable things I’ve experienced throughout this doom and gloom.

Today, Paul took me on a short adventure to get my mind off of things.

1st stop: Ralphs for chocolate soymilk and straws. He bought me a giant carton of milk and straws to drink from because we were taking it on the road. The best part was having 9 straws continuously fall into the carton.

2nd stop: Curry House. I mentioned curry sometime during the day, and even though he wasn’t hungry, he grabbed a late lunch to-go just for me. Whoever said men don’t listen never met Paul.

3rd, 4th, 5th stops: Settlers of Catan hunt. Walmart had the cheapest price according to Google, but no Walmart stocked the game (go figure). We hit Target and Paul immediately grabbed it off the shelf. My favorite part was asking why he was so determined to buy it and his answer was, “Settlers is what brought us together!”

We’ve been playing World of Warcraft all night, and Settlers will have to wait until tomorrow. But Paul has been a trooper and trying to do what he can for me. He even has rock music playing in the background just for me. And we know much Paul loves his N* jams.

We both still can’t believe it’s been an entire year that we officially started dating. Hopefully, this blog experiment will eventually become a wonderful reminder of the best thing that has ever happened to me.

I still get butterflies.

Early American literature has its way of drilling into my brain and leaving it in pieces as a reminder that I am nothing more than a mediocre college student, attempting to fill in the lines with something extraordinary. Turning page after page, absolutely nothing is sticking, and the same sentence is read aloud twenty times over until I conjure up the image of blinding my eye with a highlighter. But on certain days, when the weather is warm, and I’m taking refuge in the only home that I know, reality pushes me into the most comforting set of arms I could ever imagine. I look up and before Franklin or Hamilton or Paine can drive me back into colonial insanity, he places a rose on the page of my book, filling the room with the joy I thought I had lost. Before I know it, he’s off to work again, and the floral scent carries my heart until the end of the day when I am happiest knowing that I can sleep under the covers and wake up to my favorite kiss good morning.

“Your voice is about the only real calming thing I know I have.”

While he doesn’t say much when it comes to these type of things, when he does, they’re something else.

The best things are always the simplest of things. And they don’t really teach you that anywhere else. Until life comes along. You wake up sick in bed, and he’s there. And the hot bowl of soup that he puts on your lap is enough to melt your heart. He puts on a movie and tells you it’s Disney. Your smile quite isn’t enough to tell him what he needs to hear.

You realize you look awful, lacking sleep, feeling terrible. But he holds your face in his hands and tells you you’re beautiful. You are the prettiest little thing he’s ever seen and wouldn’t want it any other way. He picks you up, and spins you around as if nothing else mattered.

Night falls and ice cream sounds like a wonderful reward for sleeping away the pain of being sick. He throws your hood on because he cares more about you than you do, and your steps on the sidewalk are in sync with his. You jump on him after you’ve finished your ice cream and wish for time to stop and capture this moment.

He whispers the things that give your heart wings, and you remember how the best things are always such simple things.