so they say,

we were in a dark room, with our naked skin tapping on the lining of the thin, cold air as our legs fold itself neatly beneath the sheets. in this dark room, i caught those emerald eyes, staring into mine as i lay closely to this masculine entity, letting its fingers sprint gently down my hair, down my shoulder blade, down my arm. in this blind-sighted space, i asked myself, is this love?

last wednesday, it was pint night at the underground uni bar and i went along with him. i was with my group and he bumped into a couple of friends from work. it was crowded. he turned a couple of times to check on me, and amidst the buzzing drunkards, sweating pool of horny students and dodgy boogans, i met those piercing glances and i was glad. two drinks and one tipsy state later, i declared that i found him cute while i cheekily skip a leap and shuffle with his hair. he blushed shyly and told me that i had my beer goggles on.he spent the night at my place and when morning greets, i woke up, to these fine words that had me dolloping a tear or two, i realized for quite some time now that i really do love you.

i cringed. and i released my stomach. i was happy, more surprised actually.
can i love these imperfections of this perfection state that i have created in my mind? i mean we are two very different people.
compromise?
yes and yes.
that morning, it was cold and wet. that morning, i drew a smiley face on my window pane. that morning, i brewed a fresh plunger of my new coffee blend and made my epic egg mcmuffin for the two of us (and my best friend/flatmate) for breakfast. that morning, i told him that i felt the same way too.