I Cannot Wait To Meet You

I do not care much what you look like, but I do hope this; that your smile is easy, and kind.
Like the smile of a man who is accustomed to speaking well of others.
A man who seeks to be happy, rather than finding judgement or dissatisfaction.
A man who can laugh at himself.
I hope that the solidness of you, your very presence in my life, pulls me in like a magnet;
the force between us that of the moon and the tide, forever ebbing and flowing in a togetherness so exquisite, the only possible way things could be between you and I.
That our ribcages nestle together like birds of a feather when we lie intertwined at night. With my feet on your lap and your hand in my hair, it does not matter where you end and I begin. 

I hope that when I meet you, timing is on our side, for when two people cross paths can make the difference between lovers and enemies. A celestial collision can result in an explosion so bright it burgeons life and beauty; but a near miss between two stars, hurtling into the galaxy further and further apart, sends them only into more darkness.
I hope, I plead that when we meet, we are both who we need to be for ourselves. That we are each pursuing our respective, rightful paths. That we are already so in love with our lives that we don’t have to compromise to bind our love together; rather we can multiply our happiness into so, so much more.
The sense of contentment we both feel in the place where we’ve built our lives, and with the people we hold so dear, only blossoms as we share the joy of for once being in just the right place at the right time. 

I hope that when I meet you, you will feel familiar like a beloved sweater.
That any suspicions or doubts the others have awoken in me, the sirens that ring out “he can’t possibly…” and “he won’t…” will lie dormant when you make me promises, when you confess your feelings.
That you will beam authenticity and trustworthiness so brightly I can’t help but feel safe in your light. 

I hope that we make each other crazy; though not nearly as often or as violently as we make each other unhinged with laughter.
I do not long for a placid kind of love.
I hope that we make each other feel, deeply, and help each other to grow in our compassion and tenderness. That when we fight, we resolve it by winding closer into each other, protecting the other as we would our own selves, allowing the fiery embers of our anger to dissipate into smoke.
That we give each other the space to expand and be loud and feel despair but that the circle of our love, the elasticity and unconditionalness of it, winds us together and draws us back into our best selves

I hope that when I am with you, I feel like the truest version of myself.
That the sapling of my self, the part of me so vulnerable and so very alive that has yet to grow to its full height, will find the courage to sprout behind the shield of your grace.
I don’t hesitate before speaking, I don’t pause to consider the validity of my secret, hidden truths or the worthiness of the emotions I simply cannot help feeling in the very core, the very heart of me.
I am the person my parents are proud of, the woman who is capable of loving, and striving with grace.
I hope that I am generous with myself, seeking to please you, and comfort you, and reveal myself to you, but that I never over-extend, into territory where I am in danger of giving you so much that I no longer feel whole. I hope I find the balance that has somehow always felt so tenuous in the past. 

More than anything, I hope that you surprise me, even if it leaves some of my hopes unfulfilled.
I wish to be snapped into the presentness, the undeniability and very rightness of our love.
I will be so in awe, this man who is both unlike any other before him, but as familiar to me as my own laugh, that I will have to pick my jaw up off the floor when I realize “this is it.” How could I have thought anything else was this? How could I have dreamed up someone so wonderful, so very much my equal in all things? 

I cannot wait, yet it is the waiting, the almost and the maybes, which will make our meeting all the sweeter. Thought Catalog Logo Mark


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