To Bitch, from Babe

While my music man is in Atlanta, he shares with me his first impressions and new, hourly experiences of the city.

He shares a variety of subjects from coffee shop patience and quirky theaters to observing life within a simple diner and pancakes for lunch. He then sends a little more while perusing a library:

(poem by Leonard Bernstein, a favorite of mine for West Side Story alone, although I’ve enjoyed all his creations that I’ve read/heard so far)

That’s the sort of man he is; he seeks knowledge, aches to learn more when he can, and is unashamed to admit he doesn’t know everything with a genuine ambition to discover more.

Maybe he doesn’t see this in himself, or hasn’t thought of himself in that light, but that’s all I’ve witnessed so far.

And the fact that he would even think to share this with me is simply… Good.

I’m included in his life, his thoughts, his hopes and goals without my begging or inquiring.

I’m simply

Automatically

Invited.

Which is good, because there’s no place else I’d rather be.

It seems small, but these little things are, well….

All I ever wanted.

I’m not one to boast about a relationship and post about it everywhere all the time, but it’s my blog and I’ll break my rules now and again.

Many of you may gag at my lovey-dovey bullshit. Go ahead, I have no desire to stop you.

But this is new to me. For once I’m not too jaded, the bitter has faded, so I would like to relish it a little.

Oh and,

Thanks babe.

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