Pinch me, please, universe. I have gone silent and into the calm, deeply unnerving yet oh so steady ocean of starting to fall for This One.
Is this all a dream?
If I have fallen behind on writing about it I admit here that it's because I do not want to. This is going so well *fingers crossed* that I cannot bear to write about it; I'm afraid that by writing about it, I'll jinx it or break it and I don't know if I could ever forgive myself for that. What we have is by leaps and bounds so different, and wonderfully so, than anything I have ever experienced, that I dare not share so many of the personal details I have before on this blog with other relationships.
Let's just say that since I've returned from Bretagne we've seen each other a whole lot. It's going so, so incredibly well that we're basically insta-coupled. And I don't mind that for a second.
He's communicative and honest and open and it feel natural. We feel natural.
¨On est bien ensemble,¨ he said the other night. We're good together. He added that we're getting quite good at this us thing. He then laughed and pointed out that our anniversary is the 4th of July.
What could be better for an Ameriphile dating an American girl?
I couldn't help but smile. It's all I have been doing. Walking the streets of Paris like a blindly smiling idiote, pure proof that I belong not to the realm of weeping, morose Parisians whose sole régime is bonjour tristesse but that à la base I will always be Californienne.
So if I do not write anything on here about This One, assume it is because This One seems too good to be true, and it's going so well, so so well, that it scares me the way handling antique china vases would scare me: it's so beautiful and yet seems so fragile that I can't bear to handle it.
It's still early. We will see.
Somebody pinch me please.
