Your Hand in Mine

It hasn't been too long since Gabe and I got together, but the months that I have passed since the winter have felt like years. Wonderful, dream-like years. I never thought I'd ever find Mr. Right. I never thought Mr. Right would be Mr.Saporta- laugh if you wish- but... I've never been happier, and even though the thought of being in love with my best friend scared the shit out of me- it worked out perfect in the end.

The first snow of the season with Gabe was one of the most magical events in my life. The snow fights, cuddling up drinking cocoa, and all the late night talks- movies, findings of him dancing in his underwear for a few laughs- nothing seemed like it could go wrong. The winter ended in a glee for spring- the flowers blooming, the air smelling fresher, the wind being more welcomed than before. Nothing could go wrong. Nothing. Gabe told me on the first day of spring, that our love bloomed like the seasons. But does that mean it will end just as so? He says our relationship reminds him of spring- replenishing, fresh, new, a beggining, innocence, peace, that 'just right' feeling.

Perhaps it does match to his perspective of spring. I've filled notebooks on top of notebooks with random thoughts and conclusions. Gabe says I think too much. Then again, he has always said that. I guess it is true. Maybe I do think too much.

Most night are now spent cuddled up in to his chest, our legs intertwined and our breathing heavy. I have yet to actually fuck have sex make love to Gabe, yet. But neither of us mind. The longer, the better. And he never lets me say 'sex'. He now considers it a 'dirty word' and 'no such thing will be used in our relationship.' He says the depth of what we have to give is much more than the average- or at least it isn't as sinful and unrighteous as most-- something like that. I think it sounds nice..

Make love.

It sounds like us to do. I don't think that I could ever just 'fuck' him or 'have sex'. It seems so meaningless- having sex. 'Fucking' seems for whores..or...strangers. But all is well with what you like. I've been thinking- if we have kids...what would they look like? Would Gabe ever want a kid? Could we actually even get that far in our relationship? Do I want kids?

I don't really have to worry about that right now. Since we're not doing anything. There's something Gabe doesn't know- something I can't muster up to telling him. I can't make love with him for a reason. No, not because I'm a man or any of that bologne. Since that night, I haven't been able to let anyone in that comfort zone. For anyone to know me like that seems scarey, and plus, when your virginity is taken from you... you realize actually how much of a precious thing it is.

My door opened, suddenly, to reveal a tired Gabe. I sat down my journal on the bedside table and let a smile linger on my lips as he took his shirt off and scooched in to bed with me, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me to him more, nuzzling his head in to neck.

"Baby, stop leaving me." He whined.

"I'm sorry."

"You better be. You're getting in the morning."

I chuckled at his stirn voice.

"I love you, Gabe."