February 24, 2017

24-01-2017

Today’s track comes from one of my favourites, Passenger. It’s a love song, but one that I can enjoy without finding it melodramatic because, as he usually does, Passenger comes at in a way that’s accessible and real. It also makes me think of The Lady Holly, you’ll find out why that’s relevant in just a moment.

Yesterday marked seven years of me being lucky enough to date the wonderful Lady Holly. Unfortunately she had a fairly horrendous day at work, which was then made worse by a unlucky series of events as she tried to traverse home. The day was ultimately salvaged however by a trip into the CBD and a visit to a Peruvian restaurant where we ordered pisco sours and told them to keep the food coming. The food was excellent, the pisco’s wonderfully sour, and the company perfect.

I also wrote Holly a card. Well, it started off as a card but seven years of love and admiration is hard to fit in a card and so it quickly evolved into a letter. She was kind enough to allow me to share it here, and so if you’re of a mind you can read it below.

++++

Dear Holly,

If it takes seven years for every cell in our bodies to replicate then that means we are not the same people who met at a bar in Washington (one of us relatively sober, the other not so much). And the fact is, we’re not. Those 21 and 23 years old are gone, replaced slowly one cell at a time. We’re here now.

We’re older, hopefully wiser, at the very least we definitely know more than we did then, although that doesn’t necessarily mean much. We have a rabbit called Morrie, and a shared life, and a shared home. We’ve grown and cut off more hair and fingernails than I can comfortably think about, not to mention the amount of skin we’ve collectively lost. We’ve kissed for an inordinate amount of time. Hugged, held, and touched each other to a degree my mind can’t really fathom (especially the number of butt touches that have taken place). We’ve spoken for what I think must be over a year. Looked at each other for months. Slept side by side longer than our nieces have been alive. But I can’t get enough.

I can’t get enough of speaking with you because every time I do I gain something. It might be just an update on what you’ve experienced while we’ve been apart. It might be your thoughts on a particular topic. It might be a summary of the projected emotions Morrie is feeling. Or it might be validation. It might be acceptance when I need it the most. It might be the thing that breaks through my head when it’s in a mess, giving me clarity and comfort. Whatever it is, it’s always thought out to a point that it’s engaging, or not, to a point that it’s entertaining. It’s always you, and so it’s always my favourite conversation.

I can’t get enough of hugging you because it’s always a connection. So much so that on days when I feel alone I plan to snatch one of those hugs as soon as you walk through the door. It’s home in a physical form and it has become my favourite feeling (apart from maybe the butt touches).

I can’t get enough of sleeping next to you, yes, even when it sounds like your nose and throat have converted into some kind of horrible fleshy set of bagpipes. Yes, even then. Because without you there the bed feels unnaturally big, and I can’t spread out enough to fill it. With you I’m always the right size and the empty spaces are no longer empty. It’s too quiet when you’re not around anyway, even for an introvert like me. My favourite night’s sleep is one I get to spend with you.

I can’t get enough of coming home to our house because it’s decorated with years of memories. Painted with multiple coats of shared laughter and shared drinks. Warmed by your affection, your love, and your cheek heavy smile. It is my favourite place because it contains you.

It’s been seven years and we are not the people we were when we met. For this I am grateful because it means I get to start this next seven years as someone who is supported beyond measure, who is happier than he has any right to be, who always knows where his next butt touch is coming from, and who is stupidly in love with you.

You are my favourite everything.

Love Damian

++++

I am a very lucky man.

Talk soon

Damian

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