"I sometimes get sad that I'll never have another first kiss."
Recently, a few of my gal pals have embarked on some really exciting love journeys. Exciting in that stones-deep-down-in-your-belly and high-pitched-squeals-and-shivers-in-your-shoulders type way that feels like maybe (maybe?!), this time it is forever (or, maybe its not, but either way, this is the most fun part - the physical reactions to this much potential).
And I have been feeling 100% excitement, with just a dash of jealousy. Its a silly, grass-is-always-greener-somewhere-else jealous. The kind that you can talk about openly and make fun of yourself for, but still stays.
I will never be at a table for eight with just that one other. I will never brush hands with someone and feel that lightning bolt travel through my body for the first time. I will never have that first walk through the rain. I'll never have another first kiss.
I shared these feelings with Boyfriend, who laughed at me, patted my head, and said, "I am going to make tuna boats for dinner."
Those first days and weeks when you're carrying around a wicker picnic basket of happiness are the best, and I highly recommend writing all your emotions down in a place where they are easily accessible eight years down the line. But what we have now, with the lying on the porch all day reading books, and making things that sound funny for dinner, and going on adventures around the world and to the Pier One clearance sale, and the non-stop slumber party with jokes and snuggling - I feel like maybe (maybe?!) it is even better.