...when you find the one - part 2

    Thomas quickly swept me off my feet. After that first night of drinking and kissing, we spent nearly every day together. I quit smoking right away; and on April 20th—a year after he had pushed me to make the move that I had always wanted to make—we made our relationship Facebook official.

Sometimes—many times—I feel like it should’ve been you. The way you think and reason things; the way you see what has to be done and find it difficult to not do those things; the way you want to please and take care of everyone; your selflessness, dependability, attitude, and quirks. And I truly love your voice. I’m a huge sucker for a sexy voice; not just someone that can sing—which I know you can—but someone that can make me bite my lip with just a few uttered words. You do that. I also love the voices that you do. I love that you’re always making me laugh; and that I am also able to make you laugh. I think I’m pretty funny, but usually too awkward to get the timing of a joke just right—that’s not the case with you. I know sometimes you feel like you talk too much, but that’s only because I’m too wrapped up in what you’re saying, to think of anything to say myself. I want to be yours. I want to see every version of you; the one that’s scared and the one that’s brave; the angry and the calm; the meek and the outgoing; the sober and drunk; the somber and happy. I want you to be mine.

    We soon realized the extent of our similarities—on more than one occasion, as utterly cliché as it sounds, literally finishing each other’s sentences. It was, we were, we are disgustingly perfect.

I realized that you were the one I had to be with, when I would feel anxious just thinking about letting someone else know me completely. I didn’t want them to know I had an angry face; an addicted mind; a gluttonous, slothy, self-conscious body. I wanted to be this perfect version of myself, without letting them see the real me. You saw the real me from day one—and even helped me to feel like the real me was perfect.

    Then on June 12 2014, over a decade after we had met, I stopped accepting Voldemort's lies. After hearing repeated excuses as to why we had yet to receive our tax return, I stopped asking and told him that I knew he had received and spent the money, and was sure he had hoped to find another job that would pay him enough to repay me before I had noticed. He admitted that I was right. It was all gone. He had spent it on trips, drugs, and clothes for himself. Furious, I kicked him out and in the process of removing his things from the closet, found empty baggies of cocaine, which convinced me that I was doing the right thing. I told him I would not report him to the police if he managed to repay the money he had stolen. He promised that he would, but could only afford two checks for a hundred each, before he stopped coming around.

    My father flew up in July, met and fell in love with Thomas; and Thomas and I went on a ten-day vacation. We flew to San Francisco—spent a few days in Walnut Creek, where I met some of his extended family—and went wine tasting in Napa Valley. We then drove down the coast to L.A., slept a couple of nights in the nicest hotel I had ever stayed, caught a show at The Improv Comedy Club—where he met a fellow voice actor who referred him to his current talent agency—and had VIP passes to Universal Studios for the following day. Then we flew to Chicago for a few days—went out, drank, and had traditional deep-dish pizza. I had never been on a trip that could compare, and quickly lost count of the many new and different things that I saw and experienced—all the while, falling deeper in love than I thought possible. By the end, over-stuffed and exhausted, we eagerly flew back to New York and to my son.

I’m in love and I can’t shake it.

The thought of him at once awakened.

I can’t deny that I’m consumed

By the obsession which has bloomed

From the bond I overlooked,

And the feelings that I mistook

To be nothing but a caring

For the past we have been sharing,

Instead of what they really are—

Signs and signals from afar,

Claiming that this friendship grown

Is in fact my one true home.