Saturday, November 7, 2015

Olive Juice

Olive Juice. From the movie The Other Sister. I recall liking the movie. But more, this sentiment stuck with me. Olive Juice is what you mouth to someone when you want to say 'I love you', but they can't hear you. From a distance it looks like 'I love you'.

Mr. Security and I have decided cohabitation is in our best interest. We've past the three month mark and neither of us has turned into a raging asshole. If anything, we get along better. And when we spend most of our time together anyway, it seems silly to pay rent on two places. There's also the madly in love part, and while that is a factor, it's not the primary one. 

We originally decided on the first of the year. But things came into play on both sides that pushed that timeline forward. The what is not important. It seems like the universe is pushing us together. If one were to be the type of person to go with the flow, then this is the natural outcome.

If I take the boyfriend goggles off, he's a wonderful roommate. Considerate, helpful, clean. All important things. That he's actually my boyfriend, makes it all so much better. 

We did a mad scramble to look for a house. But after a few days we decided that actually moving can wait. He's coming here for a few months. Then after the holidays, we're going to look for an actual house. 

The last couple of days, I've been excited to get off work so I can come home to him. I'm feeling domesticated and so is he.

It's funny to think back on the early days. When I gave him a key, strictly for logistical purposes, and he sort of freaked out. I remember rolling my eyes and telling him, "I'm not asking you to marry me. I just want you to be able to lock my door when I leave you in bed to go to work." And now I get to come home and see that panty-droppin-smile every day.

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