I’ve been working two full-time jobs lately. One writing, one falling in love. And as much joy that I take in being a professional Writer… the second job is why I’ve been so scarce.
I actually took the D train to Brooklyn for the first time the this week. Anthony and I decided this is a more practical choice from time to time opposed to an $80 return cab fare. Although, as my boyfriend puts it, “40 bucks each way to get us to each other in twenty minutes is nothing.” The subway is an hour.
I’ve never had an official boyfriend. It’s really fun. He always asks, “Do you need money?” when another car adventure comes; he brings me flowers every time it’s his turn to visit Manhattan; I wear his clothes everywhere; he’s a gentleman, always.
If I don’t marry this man, I’ll be shocked. Certainly it wouldn’t be the first shock I’ve endured – but it would definitely be one of the greatest.
I’ve never looked in anyone’s eyes and actually witnessed my future before. The way he speaks to me, looks at me and silently dwells around me is the greatest level of divinity I’ve experienced. It’s like ever single element in my life came together.
We talk about my writing a lot. He’s always encouraging me to submit something 
somewhere and I’m always contesting that no great Writer ever gets known before we croak. I told him how proud I was of myself when I got my first business card to officially say Writer on it and he concurred.
I’ll post some fresh creative work soon. It’s been spilling in inky rivers for three weeks now. Something about the perfection in the balance of finding who you’ll be with forever has returned to me…
And it has been a really, really fucking long time.
I’ll be bouncing around Anthony’s apartment later, wearing one of his garments, bopping to this:
“Your sex takes me to paradise…”
Finally.