A Rose with Thorns

I met someone.

Not the type of “I met someone” where you bump into someone bold, showy, and brash at a local bar, turning into makeout sesh’s, sleepovers, and no follow-up texts.

Not the type of “meeting someone” where people connect through online dating apps, trying to desperately create some human-to-human interaction — when all we have to base these moments on are a couple of quirks about each other.

And, perhaps most vividly, not the type of “chance meeting” that happens through artificial attraction; when we see someone we desire and are purely motivated by lust, sex, and primal attraction.

No, I really, truly, without a doubt, met someone. Someone I like, like. Like, ‘like-like’!

Someone that I like, as in someone I actually enjoy spending my time with, or think about when I’m not with them, and even in ways that, sometimes — albeit, scarily —I care about more than myself. It’s exciting, it’s breathtaking, and, fuck-wow-holy-shit: it’s probably the most petrifying experience I’ve ever been a part of.

It’s someone that I think about — admittedly too much; about how she is, about how I can make her laugh, about how I can help her. Someone that makes me smile just as much when she’s with me as when she’s out in the world, doing all that life stuff and fighting for her dreams. Someone that leaves a little trail of happiness wherever she walks; someone who immediately causes creases to form in the dimples on our faces, turning blank stares into wide smiles; someone who leaves an impression at first glance.

She’s like, truly, the best, which I know is a lame, non-descriptive cop-out to describe such a dynamo of a person…but trust me: normally, words come easy to me, a conversation is natural, and small interactions are quirky and intimate. With her, it’s a whole new ballgame. I don’t have words to express what she does for me, nor do I have words to express how much I want her to be happy. Shockingly, it turns out that years of high school, undergraduate, and graduate-level journalistic studies don’t quite meet the criteria for describing feelings of deep attraction. Thanks, college.

I met someone, and I’m ecstatic about it. I’m down bad — horribly so — for the way she can throw together healthy, delicious meals in under thirty minutes. I’m enamored with her ability to prioritize herself and her goals. I’m ridiculously intrigued with how she’s able to endure so much on a daily basis, and still persevere — putting her adorable curls up with a hair-tie, pulling together a totally vogue, cute outfit on the norm, and going right back into the fire of life — over, and over, and over again. I’m ecstatic about her — not just because I think she’s hotter than the sun going supernova, but even more so because I know I have so much to learn from her.

I met someone, and I’m definitely, without a doubt, in all respects: head over heels for her.

I’m not going to dive into a whole synopsis of my relationship experience (I’d probably bore myself more than bore you all), so here’s the just: I’ve had a fair amount of relationships, a handful of which ended up being truly meaningful and rewarding, and a select few that left an undeniable lasting impact on my life. With that being said, I never really looked at someone as a potential partner for longer than just now, tomorrow, and maybe the week after…I was thinking of people and memories as a very finite, superficial part of life. When I say that “I’ve met someone”, I’m not sugarcoating my feelings — this person is the outlier, the mystery, the deviation from the norm, and, quite frankly: I have absolutely no shit what the fuck is going on. Life really threw a 2016 NBA Finals, ‘comeback from down 3–1’ at me this year, and this person I’ve met is the deviant force that has absolutely shaken my world.

Think LeBron James, putting together an impossible sequence of sprinting back in transition and swatting a potentially game-winning layup, then going on to win the first NBA Finals in Cleveland Cavaliers history. Think exactly that. THAT is how I feel about her, her quick strides and choppy curls bounding into my life and completely changing the scope of how I think, breathe, and do.

If life worked in ways that were linear and straightforward, there’s a great possibility that war, famine, and all the other shitty shit that goes on around our planet wouldn’t be nearly as bad as it is today. People might be able to rely on certain seasons being only one type of weather, or cars to always work properly, or, imagine this: certain people consistently being the people they say they are.

Unfortunately, there’s global warming, the concept that cars are not made to last forever, and the fact that we fuck up a bit, as distressed, emotional, and hormonal human beings. That linear picture— that’s not how this life thing works. It’s a rollercoaster; an endless race, with winding, perilous turns, gradual ascents, and stark pitfalls out of nowhere. It’s unpredictable and infuriating, but it’s also remarkable and magical. Often I have to remind myself of this perpetual chaos that envelops our lives, and put my situation into perspective with the grand scheme of things. Sure, this relationship isn’t the best thing that’s ever happened to me, like ever, but…man…it sure can feel as gripping as that, at times. Perspective.

Perspective, as I’ve learned from countless failures and successes in life, is just as necessary as food and water. Without it, jobs, money, relationships, and really entire lives can fall apart, all for…what? For thinking something is way more important than it really is? For attempting to do everything at once because you have to? For having blinders on to complete one goal, when there may be bigger, more comprehensive goals all around you? It’s something I’ve struggled with for much of my life, and I have absolutely no problem admitting it. From third grade through junior year of high school, I seriously thought I was going to be a professional basketball player.

Yeah, yeah. Read it again.

Like, in the National Basketball Association. Like, LeBron James. Kevin Durant. Steph Curry. Those guys, that league.

For the record, I’m six-feet-tall, and somewhere around 150 pounds. I am probably the furthest thing from a freak athlete. It’s almost — no, it is — laughable looking back, in hindsight, just how crazily zoned-in I was. At that time, girls were just people that existed from the opposite gender. Every once in a while, they might have a cute butt or something — but they weren’t something I desired, let alone thought about as other human beings that I can learn, grow, and enjoy life with. It’s crazy thinking about myself and how I viewed the world during that time period, especially given how I see it all now. Perspective, and time.

Those two things — perspective and time — are the nails I’m hammering into my starstruck brain right now and will be for the foreseeable future. I’m ridiculously excited about this person, but am not naive enough to understand that great things take time and patience, and rushing that would be a freakishly immature, gut-wrenching blunder.

For now, I’m traversing a strange environment of graduate school, 15+ hour weeks of triathlon training, teaching classes, working part-time, and having a girlfriend.

Wait — maybe having a girlfriend would hop-skotch over all of that first mentioned stuff, because she’s more important? Maybe I should ask her? Or would that be awkward? Do I care about this, dare I say, more than her? Am I thinking too far into this?

There’s so much to do, so little time to do it, yet, somehow: infinite time to overthink everything. That’s something I’m trying quite hard not to do, for the betterment of my own mental health, and the betterment of our new and exciting relationship.

Every day is an adventure with her, and nothing is taken for granted. I’ve clawed away at life, failed and learned and failed again, too many times to count, so I feel confident when I say: I know a good moment when it comes.

This is a good moment — no, a great moment. A series of fantastic, jaw-dropping moments that began with freezing bodies sitting idly in the Poudre River, parlaying into hands around necks, looking intently into one another’s eyes. Moments that led to disarray and ‘not-on-the-same-page’ days, which then led to cozy nights inside with Netflix and pets. Moments that are unpredictable, non-linear, and absolute mayhem — but nevertheless: moments that are worth every ounce of chaos they bring, as long as I can keep growing, learning, and becoming inspired by her side.

I met someone, and, yeah —

I’m pretty excited.