well, here you go. here starts your epic poem, your love letter, a record of our love story.

you asked me to write this. i didn’t want to, and i don’t really want to keep typing, if i’m being honest. i’m scared of what will come pouring out of these fingers, i’m scared of what my heart will say when i let the floodgates open, i’m scared that whatever i end up writing

in these lines

will be too much for you.

but i warned you.

and you asked for it.

so please, sit back. get comfortable.

i have a feeling this is going to be a long post, after all.

i. something to start with

you are remarkable.

i hope you know how much i mean that. i hope you understand the gravity of that term, i hope you know that calling you, yes you,

remarkable

is the greatest compliment i could ever deliver.

i strive to be remarkable. i don’t want to be happy, or loved, or successful, or really anything other than remarkable. i want to be worthy of remark. i want to live a life that is remarkable, i want to make each day remarkable. i want to live memorably, with passion, with purpose.

i want to live, each day, a life that is worth remembering.

let me just say, you are a person worth remembering. and i, for one, won’t forget you.

so, squirt, you are remarkable.

thank you for being remarkable.

ii. the narrative (because i love writing stories)

in the beginning, i was unsure. i didn’t tell you this, but i was not all that serious when i downloaded tinder again and found you. it’s been a couple years since i’ve used tinder legitimately (and not ironically) so you were the very last thing i expected to find.

but my heart found a little home, for a while, thanks to swiping that was supposed to be a joke more than anything.

i thought you were a farmer (you were a rancher), i thought you were closeted (you weren’t) i thought you were inexperienced (you weren’t in some ways, but you were in the ways that mattered). you surprised me over and over again, you know this.

you strolled up my grass, my front lawn, and i relaxed instantly. as you found your way home, to me, to my house, in your dusty white truck it occurred to me that you may not be real, you could be anyone. i invited a total stranger to my house, and that i could not undo.

well, as it turned out, you were real. you were exactly who you said you were, in a way. you were real, you are real, and that’s something i have to remind myself of often.

i pinch myself because loving you is like living a dream. and i am so used to dreaming.

you came up to me, i was waiting at the front door of my house when you entered the front door of my heart. you came inside, you were impressed by the decor, those plastic chandeliers and white marble countertops that replaced the home i used to know. i remember this much—we both found it hard to make eye contact, we were both tentative, we were both nervous, at least a little.

a rule of thumb: dates that start like that always end better than you’d expect.

i was in charge, i had our ‘adventure’ planned. i’ve taken boys on adventures, before. i take friends on them also. i find they bring me closer to others, they set us both free, for a while, and we find ourselves closer to together when we return to the confines of normal life.

this was my plan, with you, because you were someone i wanted to get closer to and stay closer with. i saw this in your smile, i saw it in the passion that filled your voice when you talked about your cattle

those four legged chunks of meat i never thought to find a connection to

i saw it in the photos you sent me, the sunsets and spiraling clouds and mountains caked in cold. i saw it in the way you looked at me.

i felt it in the way you looked at me.

there, standing on the black pavement, you found yourself far, far away from your home. i, on the other hand, felt more at home than i had all summer.

after we kissed, i found a new sort of energy, a new power, a new love between us (even though you didn’t enjoy it like i did mister) like our souls had merged, just a little. we grabbed one another, we held one another, we kissed more, we explored the woods together, i showed you who i was.

because those falls, that water, those towering pines, even the steep hillsides i’m so terrified of, those are me. you can find me there, always, resting in the bubbling pools beneath those falls (and not just those falls) and scrambling over rocks to douse myself in mist and froth.

i love waterfalls like i love you: fiercely, throughout, and inexplicably. i love them uncontrollably, not by choice, but because my gut and my heart and my brain and my hands, my spindly, veiny, crooked hands, they all reach for them.

just as i’ll spend the summer reaching for you.

but this time, mister, i find

over and over again

that you are actually in reach. and that’s the real magic of it all.

as june wore weary and unloaded its days onto our timeline, one by one, we spent more time together.

we shared bowls of ramen on a picnic table in bozeman’s freshest park, mammoth cottonwood trees standing firmly above us, filling the air with their fluff so reminiscent of the snow we both miss, sometimes.

we toured dirt roads scattered with cows around your ranch, we hid from the world, for a while, in a tunnel under i-90, we rendezvoused in grocery store parking lots at dusk.

we sat, laid, and did, well, other things together, in the back of a pickup, parked on hillsides and dirt roads as the sun’s heavenly golden light streamed through your truck’s windows and i yearned for you, i missed you, even with you right beside me.

we fell in love over five guys receipts and worn pavement, we fell in love around hills covered in purple flowers, we fell in love atop mountains speckled with waterfalls and other undiscovered wonders, we fell in love under covers, the comforter in your room and the sheets in mine, we fell in love behind the wheel, in front of the falls,

hell we fell in love with and around and above and under and all around and all over each other. and if there’s one thing i love, one thing i need, one thing i want more than anything, it’s love.

so thank you, squirt, for giving me such a hearty dose of the stuff.

iii. some lessons, from you

1. it’s possible (this is for the skeptics out there, i once was one) to be in love without being in pain. it’s possible to accept affection from another person, to trust in it, and most miraculously, to find peace in the love from someone else.
2. the best loves are soft, gentle, peaceful, and sturdy. they are not chaotic, they are not unpredictable, they are not violent. however, they are obvious, they are powerful, and they are momentous.
3. people that are worth spending your time with make you feel better about yourself when you’re with them, and when you’re not with them.
4. it’s about feeling loved, not being loved. always has been.
5. adventure is a powerful thing. so is mystery. elements of both are essential to any relationship of any time. share and celebrate both.
6. we spend too much time trying to fit relationships into categories, expectations, and ultimatums. the truth is this: it doesn’t work to let your own happiness be determined by whether others meet the expectations you set for them. release expectations and focus on the ways people impress you, focus on what makes them remarkable. seek these things, devote your life to finding them. everyone is full of these little treasures. so is the world. there is evidence of love everywhere. start looking.
7. i am worthy of dreams.
8. i don’t want to, i don’t have to, and i don’t need to feel alone. ever.