Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh.
How wonderful to wake up to those words! Followed by frothy Nespresso coffee and osteoporosis-busting ReadyBrek in bed.
I have never been happier. I haven’t felt like this for literally decades. Butterflies, indigestion, beating heart, loss of appetite, too much booze and fags, amazement, disbelief, loud music, dancing, and singing. I’m astonished that my stomach ulcer hasn’t returned. A soul mate. Connections on every level. Siamese twins. Matching Lego bricks. Kindred spirits.
I’m so up myself that I had become convinced I’d never, ever, manage to find anybody I rated more highly than me; whose company I would enjoy day after day, even more than that of my best girlfriends.
Least of all via the last-resort loser-world of online dating. How thorough are those computers?! It’s a miracle.
9 1/2 weeks looms. And after that, according to Google, thanks to changing chemicals in the brain my infatuation phase will end within three months, and our romance stage after one to two years. How do I make all this stuff hurry up so I know where I am?
Just – eeek and ooer.