03.18.04 :: 9:22 am

And as quickly and unexpectedly as he arrived, Mr. M left.

Citing "reservations" about me and about our relationship as the primary reason, he's decided he needs "a couple of days" to "think" about things.

I'm either in complete shock, or Lexapro is working overtime because I cried, but I'm not devastated. Not yet, anyway.

He said he was confused. How I was so sure about my feelings for him and shouldn't he be as well?

And hwile the answer is yes, it is also no.

Why quantify how much love?

Why be such a fervent deserter at the first glimpse of non-perfection?

He cried, too. Which makes this all the more bizarre. And gay.

As far as I'm concerned, when you find a person in this twisted world whom you enjoy spending time with, and whom you can be yourself and laugh with, you stick around.

Because contrary to popular belief, there aren't thousands of possible matches.

At best, there's like, eight.

And in your whole lifetime, you may only ever meet four or five of them.

I love him. And perhaps this is the heart of the problem. That I fell face first. That I really just let my heart, in its recently damaged state, just fly into the face of uncertainty.

I love him. And this is the simplest fact. All boiled down to basic elements.

So take a few days. Take a few weeks. Nobody said we had to be sure at the same time.

I am hopeful. I am wary. I am in love.

It's a vulnerable and terrible state.

Come home.

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