Friday, September 8

There’s a notion that the most interesting interactions are the ones we never see. A friend mentioned this to me; she posed that the intimate moments of pure emotion and inside jokes—the conversations that happen between two people who are hushed and huddled together—are probably the most fascinating.

It is easy to look at a couple in public and observe their banter, but aren’t we always curious about what happens when no one else is around? Curious, I think, simply because it’ll never be accessible. There’s no real way to get an actual idea of anyone else’s relationship. (Oh, but plenty of ways to judge it!)

I can tell you that I have been receiving and reading handwritten love letters for the past two weeks. They are waiting for me when I get home from work; one for each day the boyfriend was on holiday. You can ask me about the gold necklace with the bunny charm that I am wearing, and I’ll get a dreamy look in my eyes and gush about it, and then him, and just how! incredible! we! are!

These things are tangible and relatable, to some extent—you get that there is love and romance and that my relationship is pretty delicious. There’s obviously much more I could tell: I could talk about all the little isms him and I have or the sexy things that happen between us, but somehow I just don’t think the intimate translates well. It’ll come off as bragging, or sound foolish and insignificant to you outsiders. You’ll pick apart what you want and come to your own conclusions.

I think I have finally learned that some information is better withheld. I have always been one to over-share, keeping little to myself because I see no reason not too. But now! I contain paramount secrets and like the way they consume and excite me.