Love comes at its own leisure

Growing up with demanding and overprotective parents, I've always been insecure about myself. Social settings made me uncomfortable and by the age of nineteen I still hadn't gotten a "proper" kiss, let alone a real boyfriend. When I moved out to study mediadesign that summer, it wasn't with my parents full approval, but it was a relief to get away from that life. Not that I transformed from an ugly duckling to a swan, but it's easier to be yourself when no one knows you. Which for me meant that I felt utterly out of place whenever there were more than two people present.

But then, there was this guy. He seemed the kind of type that knew how to get along with everyone, who hung with a group consisting of a couple of pretty-looking girls and one, maybe two, other boys. I noticed him just because he spoke up in class and chatted with people he barely knew with an ease that I envied. You know, the kind of guy that makes others relax when they talk, though you can't really put your finger on what it is that makes him different.

I used to sit alone under lectures before I came to know any of the other students - it usually takes some time for me. When this guy, and the pretty-looking girls, and the one or maybe two boys, sat down next to me one time during class I became instantly apprehensive. I can't remember what we said, other than that it was something about school. Small-talk. Exchange of names. His was Kristian. I stuttered for things to say while he smiled and nodded and, I thought, humored me. And then class started, and then it ended, and when they went out talking amongst eachother I was left packing my stuff, feeling relieved. And maybe like a bit of a moron.

A couple of days later perhaps; I fumbled with the key to my dorm - where I come from students can rent rooms in a student block - only to see Kristian at the other end of the hall, just coming through the door with another guy. "Whoa hey," he called out, lifting his hand. I gave a smile and a "Hi," before hurrying through the door. You see, it's not that I'm averse to making new friends. It's more that I'm very selective about whom I make contact with. Generally I feel definitely safer around geeky people who give off a vibe that they, for instance, care more about books than their clothes. And I really don't like being caught off guard.

Living in the same block, going to the same university, walking to the same grocery story - I was bound to bump into him now and again. He seemed to always be easy-going, giving a smile and a wink, and looking me straight in the eyes whenever we did. This could be a bit difficult, since I tend to look down or away, but he seemed to make an effort to do so.

Weeks passed. I settled into my new life, even got to know a guy by name Mark who liked to read, was a laid-back, reserved type as me, and we got along well. I was content; I had someone to be with at uni, no parents to boss me around, and felt that my studying was going very well. My confidence grew ever so little. Kristian casually commented it one time in class - "You don't seem as shy as you were in the beginning" - whereupon I blushed (luckily I have olive skin) and thought despairingly "Is my awkwardness so obvious that even strangers notice it?"

Some time later I was on my way to campus to practice on a speech for class when I met Kristian. We'd never really talked, were barely even acquintances, but I stopped and he stopped and we chatted for a bit. At the end he suggested I come and knock on his door when I came back, if I had nothing else to do.

Maybe I'd decided that I'd had enough of shutting myself up in my room, or maybe it was just because he seemed genuinely nice. Whatever the reason, I did end up in his two-room apartment, and we burnt two packages of popcorn in the micro and watched a movie. "Hey," I mused out loud, "this was nice. We could, I don't know, do it again sometime?" He was all for it. It turned out that neither of us went out very much; I because I get anxious in crowds, he because he didn't really drink.

The weekend after I rented a movie and after it was finished, I browsed YouTube to show him funny vids (yes... I'm a geek). Even though it was pretty late, I had a nice time and didn't really want to go yet. I sat on a chair, he on the sofa right next to me. Call me slow, but I didn't notice that he inched himself closer until his arm was almost resting on my shoulders. And call me crazy, but I leaned into him. Inch by inch, neither of us saying a word, until we were literally cuddling.

I still remember the wild fluttering in my stomach. How the voice in my head shouted at me, "What the heck are you doing?", and how I ignored it because it felt just too good to be held. And I still remember that he asked me for a kiss, and the "Damn," that slipped over his lips as we made out on the couch. But even though I was half of a mind to just "go with the flow", I pushed at him before we got too carried away. "I can't help that I want you," he whispered.

We did not have sex. We did end up in bed. Cuddling. Touching. "Don't you see how great it can be between two people?" he asked me. The unfamiliar sense of naked skin against skin made it hard to not go all the way, but I wasn't about to jump in bed (you know what I mean) with the first guy that showed any interest in me. So we just lay in eachother's arms that night, and slept a couple of hours, and spent the whole day in bed with the curtains drawn shut, talking. Two strangers deciding to start a relationship. So the first step would be to get to know one another.

We slept together one week after that. Three weeks after we became a couple he said he loved me, and I freaked out. I didn't even know whether I was in love with him, for Pete's sake! He was just so... different! Where I avoided confrontations, he took care of the problem as soon as possible. Where I withdrew, he sought contact. "Talk to me," he would say, and I would shut up, not knowing what he expected. "Tell me what's wrong," he would coax, and I would shut up, thinking he wouldn't understand. "Are you breaking up with me?" he would ask, and I wouldn't say a thing. I don't know how the poor guy kept up.

He told me he understood that we'd been together a very short time, but he meant his words all the same. He quickly became my supporter, my best friend, the one that would hear me out and not judge me, the one that would make me laugh, and blush, and feel pretty. He took me to the store and watched me try on clothes, telling me which ones looked nice. He gave me pep-talks, insisted we eat dinner together as often as possible, from time to time combing out my tangled hair whenever I got out of the shower; I tend to leave it as it is until it's dry.

Small things. Things that made me feel loved. And yet, what would you say if I came and slapped these facts on the table; he's 7 years older than me, he's a completely different kind of person, I hurt him regularly by shutting myself down and him out by going silent, and we had sex after one week? He would say he loved me, and I would nod and maybe smile, but not reply.

Christmas came and I went home. And realized, after two weeks or so, how terribly I missed him. Could it be love...? Bah. What are the chances for that? Another week went. Alright. Maybe I'm just a bit in love with him. Talking with him on the phone every other day, I finally decided to take a plane up and spend a few days with him and his family.

I didn't tell him I loved him that Christmas holiday – not out loud. But somewhere, while I was visiting him at his childhood home, meeting his brother and parents, playing Risk with him and his best friend, I realized I did. Who's to say how old you have to be, or whether your parents know you have a boyfriend, or whether everything happened so quickly and is so intense that you're scared shitless it'll burn out? We moved in together after five months. He's asked me regularly since Christmas to marry him. Or rather... argued his case.

I told him, eventually. We've gone through alot of bumps since then, because the words "I love you" doesn't mean that you'll never hurt the other person or that life will leave you alone to enjoy your happy bubble. But you're there for eachother and you'll brave the storms together, and you'll forgive one another in the end because that is what it means to love.

Kristian - I don't have your gift for words. But perhaps Illl show you this one day so that you might understand how deeply I care for and adore you. You're my rock in this world, and although it's not always such a fine place, I can face everything if only you're there by me. How can I help feeling the way I do, when you're who you are?

I love you... how I love you.