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Fuck. This man. I barely know him, and I’m already wondering what kind of fence he’d like around his backyard. White picket?
“Plus,” Brad goes on, utterly serious, “you make people happy, Joey. You’re calm and patient and genuinely kind. You’re flexible in your thinking, but not so much that you’d compromise your morals. And I’m not sure if you know this, but sometimes you smell like sawdust. Like those happy memories you mentioned from your childhood. I could see that becoming someone else’s happy memory, too, you know? You’re a catch. Inside and out. And someday, you’re going to make the right guy very happy.”
Family isn’t always given, you know? Sometimes it’s earned. And I think that makes it all the more important. Choosing to love? I don’t think there’s anything greater than that.”
“Maybe it’s stupid, not protecting myself. I do get hurt sometimes. But if you spend your life building walls, you might miss out on the people who’d see you for who you are. I don’t want to miss out on that.”
“I think sexuality is a lot more fluid than people assume. And even if you do swing primarily one way, I think there’s always room for the exceptions. The people that just…do it for you.
He has a smile on his face the entire time we work, and when I point out the nails he’s removing are called brads, he gleefully starts making jokes. “Fuck, that brad was tight. Really had to wiggle my way in.” “Heh. Wanna watch me hammer myself?” “Hello, brad. I’m Brad. Prepare to meet your doom, as there can only be one.” I wonder if he’d prefer a spring or fall wedding.
People spend their entire lives searching for this. Trying to find the right person at the right time. To know I’ve found mine…my right person…without yet knowing if it’s the right time? It’s terrifying.
It’s not logical. To know that so soon. To be so utterly sure of it. But love, well… I don’t think it’s an emotion that’s ever been ruled by logic or reason.
Life is full of stumbles, isn’t it? What matters is not giving up.
“I’ve never loved anyone the way I love him,” I tell my mom. “How do I protect him? How do I keep him safe?” “Oh, honey,” my mom says softly. “You don’t. It’s not your job to stop everything life will throw at the two of you. You couldn’t even if you tried. It’s your job to hold his hand. To stay at his side and work through it together. You’ll heal each other over time whenever anything bad happens. That’s just how it goes. As long as he knows you’re there for him, there with him, he’ll always feel safe.”
“Joey is the person I want to spend the rest of my life with. He’s my other half in a way I didn’t know was possible. It’s not that he completes me. We just…work together, like we were always meant to find one another and become something bigger than our individual wholes. Which…sounds weird when I say it like that.
