(Originally posted on December 14th, 2007)
Last night, Ian and I lounged on his couch, talking. I leaned against the arm of the couch, my tired Ian curled up on my lap like a little boy. Watching him rest, I studied his form, his face, I breathed in the scent of his hair. He was still dressed in his professional clothes, a deep blue dress shirt and charcoal trousers. Stroking his back, I began to marvel at the depth and breadth of my feelings for Ian.
Most days, Ian is strong, able, mature, a pillar of health and manliness. I love that Ian. I want to stay under his protection, to rely on him, to seduce him body and soul, to marry him so hard he’ll never know what hit him.
But some days, Ian is a sweet, sleepy child, and I love him like a baby. I see his vulnerability, I want to nurture him, to shield him from danger. Never mind the fact that Ian is significantly larger and worlds braver than me, I still start believing I could shelter him from harm.
As we sat, resting together, I started humming to myself. ‘Unchained Melody’. Ian recognized the tuneÂ and was soon quietly singing, still curled on my lap. He knew every word. As he sang, tears started rolling down my cheeks.
I have never been one to shed tears of joy. The concept is foreign to me.
And yet, and yet… that night, tangled up on the couch with Ian, hearing his beautiful voice singing softly, realizing once again how madly I love him, there was nothing to do but cry.