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Love story ...


It's taken me two and half months to write this entry which may mean something because it's two and half months to the day before I get married.

On May 1st, I'm getting married.

There are a lot of reasons I haven't written about it before now, and they all sound a little lame at this late date, but I'll just leave it at this: I've never been good writing about my love life here and the woman I'm marrying is not a writer, a journaler, a public person or anyone who's even particularly interested in this part of what I do. She likes her privacy and I like that she likes her privacy.

Plus, we've been engaged for a while now and I didn't want to drag out the "Engagement Entries" period any longer than I needed to. My friends and family have known for a while. But love can be really boring to anyone who's not in it and what seems wondrous and great to me is tough to translate into words that go out into the world.

Which may be the real reason I haven't written this sooner. I don't know if I have the right words to describe what's happened to us, where I am right now, who I am when I'm with her. It's not the same person. We're in a secret society of two, where a language has developed that's gibberish to the outside world. I could sit here all day and tell you what an amazing person I found. How patient she's been with me, how she makes me laugh, how smart and beautiful and silly she is.

But the biggest compliment I can give her is that this is the scariest thing I've ever done in my life, the biggest leap I've ever taken, and I do it with no hesitation or regret. It's the next step. The real scary thing would be not to do it. I want to marry her. Nothing else seems to matter right now.

Which isn't to say it's been easy. I'm a firm believer that nothing in this life worth having comes without work. But it's also been the greatest reward, the most amazing calm after unsettling turmoil. Sometimes I feel like we've fought a war together against all the outside elements and that somehow we won.

I'd been in maybe a few too many relationships, but before this one, it had been one too few. It feels unreal. I wish I could explain it better, but you probably know someone who's been this happy (or maybe you're feeling it now). It's gushy and clumsy and outwardly messy; like tears, like sneezing, like breathing.

And just like that, it's also the most natural thing in the world, a movement that feels like stating the obvious.

We just spent Valentine's Day together. We decided to forego the flowers, the candy, all the entraneous stuff this year. (We have enough flowers, food and decorations coming very soon.) We picked up a really good dinner and ate it at home, together, at the dining room table with candles and wine. We ate together like we have so many times for so long, and it may have been the wine, or the time of year, or the back-of-my-mind awareness that this entry was on its way; but I teared up a little and felt my heart open up, ripping at the edges as your heart does when it's really working: Matter breaks down and rebuilds and though it's not the law of human aging, sometimes your tissue builds back stronger and wiser. I just know that it was a moment, a choking back of emotion. It all feels right.

I don't like sappy. I try to avoid it whenever I can and in these pages, I've tried very hard to be surprising and different, to write in my own voice.

But in writing about Rebecca, I find my voice has blended with someone else's and the things I feel aren't just my own anymore. My life has blended, has conjoined. I'd be a liar or a phantom if I didn't say so here.

If I were a genius or a more disciplined writer, I might find a thoroughly original way to say I love her. But even if the words are old, cliched and borrowed, the emotions certainly aren't.

The next step is easy.

Any step I take with this woman I love is easier still.




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