“I’m just not used to this”, his word soft. His wonderful, engaging smile almost shy, as I clasped his hand in both of mine. (I can’t help it sometimes I just have to touch him.)
“Then let me help you get used to it.” I respond gently squeezing his big warm hand. Incredibly his smile gets even wider. In that moment we are quiet just sort of glowing there in the low light of the pub, holding hands across the table like the smitten fools we are.
Last night, I picked Zed up from work to take him to get a bit of bureaucratic rubbish taken care of regarding his disabled person’s bus pass. Unfortunately, as we stood in line in the government building the bloody fire alarm went off. Needless to say frustration was running high as he only has until Monday to get the thing renewed. Wrapping my arms around him I assured him that I would help him take care of it, so he wouldn’t have to worry.
Gradually his agitation wound down, and we left the still evacuated building hand in hand to find some fun in a local hat shop, grab some coffee, some food and a beer. What began as a possible ruinous evening, became instead a really sweet spill of hours spent in Zed’s fine company.
I never imagined this would ever happen to me again. I can say in raw honesty, how I feel about Zed is not like any love I’ve experienced before. Thus, I realize in full now, that every love is splendidly unique. To suggest there is any singular expression of the word is to rob it of it’s truth.
We are assuredly both mad, in our own personal crazy ways, and I am completely at home with that.
The Teebeanery 