My Kind of Crazy

Tonight, the eve of my boyfriend and I's second month of courting, was probably the best night I've ever spent with any single person. You always see those super romantic things that those couples do in all the chick flick-y movies but outside the TV screen, you don't really hear of them. Tonight, Wesley and I took a walk through a beautiful summer meadow... in the pouring rain. The path was covered in puddles, the trees were dripping raindrops, and our hands were slipping apart  in the downpour. We took refuge under this porch roof of an on-property smokehouse. He sat on this firewood box and I sat on the ground between his legs and I remember looking around and seeing no one else. The rain, the crickets chirping, the sun setting, the puddles, the mud - it was all just for us, our own private scene of perfection. And as the acidic rain softened our skin and curled our hair, I knew with each glance at his soft blue eyes that this evening was ours and no one could take it from us. When our lips finally met, I knew he was The One.

Now that the Yuck Fest is over, you'll be glad to know that Wes and I  aren't always like this... so don't expect Taylor Swift entries too often. But, when it happens,  I'll be sure to let you know,  that way you lady readers know what you deserve and you gentleman readers know what you should be doing.

Mr. Right

Whenever I was in eighth grade, I met the coolest cat ever. Of course I had a crush on him. Every morning in homeroom, I'd stare at him until he  blushed. Apparently that wasn't enough evidence for him to figure out that I was diggin him. Oh well. I daydreamed about being his girlfriend each day in middle school and now I get to live it each day and instead daydream about marrying him. I get that we're still just two teenagers in puppy love but damn I wanna marry this kid!

For those of you out there struggling, thinking Mr. Right isn't out there or maybe your thinking he's too far out of your reach... don't lose hope. Hes in the last place you'll ever look.

Word Count: 507

     Word to the wise: Never ask a girl why she likes her boyfriend. She’ll probably get a childish grin across her face and won’t shutup for the next few hours. Most girls can go on for hours and name more reasons than they have hair follicles about why their boyfriend is so much better than anyone else’s. Most girls... But I’m not one of those.

                When someone asks you ‘Why?’, your answer begins with ‘Because…’. What did English class teach you about this word? It’s a conjuction whose meaning is ‘for the reason of; due to the fact that…’. In Layman’s terms: When you hear the word ‘Because’, you’re about to get an excuse or a reason. You’re about to get an explanation to justify someone’s actions, thoughts, or feelings. And that’s not how my heart works. I can’t give you a million excuses why I like my boyfriend. I can’t give you a hundred reasons why I like my boyfriend. My heart doesn’t have to prove anything to anyone. It likes who it likes and there isn’t a damn reason why.

                So if you ask me if my boyfriend is cute, I’m going to say yes – because he is. If you ask me if he makes me smile, I’m going to say yes – because he does that, too. He also has one of the best playlists I’ve ever heard, he’s smooth without even trying, he gives the best hugs, and I adore his curls. These aren’t reasons why I like him. These are additives, extras, bonuses, things that make liking him even better. I don’t like him because he has blonde curls that I can run my fingers through. If that would be true, I wouldn’t feel the same way if he cut his hair.

                If you have to base your feelings for someone on physical characteristics, material possessions, or even on anything at all, you probably don’t have any real feelings at all. If you have to back your love up with excuses or reasons, maybe you need to rethink it. People always say that there’s no such thing as falling out of love because you either still do or you never did. But there’s something everyone’s missing.  The wife that doesn’t love her high school sweetheart anymore after 12 years is probably telling the truth. Don’t call her a liar. She fell in love with the seventeen year old boy who walked her down the hallway and carried her books.  One day, she woke up and that boy was gone. He grew older, into a man who is starting to wrinkle and whither.

                So, back to the original question: Why do I like my boyfriend? Why do I want to be with him? What about him makes me want to stay? If the past four hundred seventy one words didn’t answer any of those questions, maybe I can answer with just three more. Why do I Iike my boyfriend? I just do. Plain and simple, short and sweet. I didn’t need five hundred words.