(no subject)
Maeve <camimaeve@gmail.com>
to Max Iannello

Meu amor,

It's weird, being the one that's awake when you're asleep - normally the other way around, isn't it? I'm not like you, I didn't intend to be up writing (though I do have an idea for a children's book, actually, that I can't really shake; two little girls are out catching fireflies on their family's farm one summer evening and they catch a fairy instead - I just like fairies, I think), but I got up to get Gabriela Herstik's 'Inner Witch' because that's what I'm reading at the moment, and I just sort of realized that I didn't really want to get up. And not because I'm lazy, which would usually be the reason, but just because I didn't want to be apart from you for the literal minute and a half it would've taken me to walk into your living room and get my book out of my bag.

I think that might be a little sad? But, maybe, not in a bad way. I've always felt like we existed best in each other's orbits - we function better when we're around each other, and I could never quite put my finger on why, but maybe, finally, we cracked it. Maybe we were always meant to be like this. Maybe this truly was fate; the universe bringing us together five years ago because it knew, eventually, we'd find our way here. I know you don't quite buy into that stuff the way I do, and that's alright, because variety is the spice of life (that's the saying, right? I don't actually know one hundred percent, my mind's a little groggy because it's fucking EARLY), but I think I like that explanation best. I don't think it was us being slow or ignoring what was in front of us the whole time. I think it was the universe keeping us in a holding pattern until we were really, truly ready.

Today just sort of affirmed that, for me. How many times have we been to the Met together in the past five years? So many; so many. But today (yesterday, technically?) - it felt different. It felt better, right, as if something clicked into place. I told Ed yesterday that I felt a little ridiculous, because I'm already fucking nuts about you. He said that it made sense, though, because we've known each other for so long - but I also, sort of, like thinking that you've just made me this bonkers because you're that special. And you are, you know: special. I wouldn't take this much care with anyone else, gatinho. I wouldn't try to make sure we're doing things right, make sure we're doing things well, with anyone but you. It's funny, and oddly fitting, how you already seem to be the exception to every rule I ever had.

I hope this isn't getting too flowery or saccharine for you? Maybe I should stop now before I keep waxing too poetic on the way the fates were smiling on us and shit. I know you're not exactly the romantic type, and that's alright, because I'm not usually either, but I can harness it enough for the both of us. I know you said the other day that I can remind you, nudge you, to be a bit more romantic if I want to - but I don't really need you to be. When you tuck my hair behind my ear when we're watching something or when you kiss me just because you can or when you tell me you'll come to visit me in Budapest; that's romantic, to me. It's little things like that that let me know you care about me, and that's all I'm ever really after. I wouldn't be with you if I didn't like you just the way you are. (And think about how lucky we got that both of our love languages is words of affirmation; we've got this on lock.)

I'm awfully excited for the gala tomorrow (tonight?), by the way - I think you'll like the dress I picked out. It's an open back and there's a bit of side boob; very tastefully salacious.

Also, I adore you, but you snore like a chainsaw. I can't hear myself think, or this would be much, much longer. Thank God I typically sleep like a rock.

xxx C