I know how it sounds. I know it’s the kind of corny bullshit we both pretend we don’t like. (But I see the way you crack a smile when I tell you I’ve written a new poem about you.)
You and I are the types to roll our eyes at how easily people use the word adventure. Like every generic Tinder profile shouting into the void, “Just looking for someone to go on adventures with!” As if a relationship isn’t a relationship unless it’s also equipped with whitewater rafting or scaling rocky mountains.
But I never wanted much adventure.
On our first date, I told you how terrified I am of change, that I will never be the girl diving into the pool first. I’m going to dip one toe, slowly wade in until I’m comfortable with the water’s temperature. I don’t like things that shock my system. I’m running on a heart that already naturally beats too fast, I’m not looking for extra jolts.
And then, you came barreling into my world.
I didn’t know such thrill could come from the simple comfort of knowing our love is safe, that every time you look at me, I am climbing my own Everest, but I know I’ll make it to the top in one piece.
We are not spontaneous nights because spontaneous nights are cloaked in uncertainty.
Nothing about us is uncertain.
Loving you when we first wake up and have sleep crust in both our eye is my favorite adventure. Loving you when you are stressed from work and I’m nervous about the future so we share exactly how we’re feeling is my favorite kind of adventure. Loving you when we are both bloated from too much pizza and transformed into sloth-like fixtures on the couch is my favorite kind of adventure.
It is the kind that is lasting, an adventure I want to take again and again.
I never trusted adventures. But I trust everything with you.