I went out with him without makeup, without being dressed up. I got sweaty and dirty and tripped a few times and you know what happened? He still treated me like I was something amazing. He didn’t inch away because I had dirt smeared across my cheek. He would just shake his head and laugh. We ran and jumped and climbed. We got stuck in the rain and he was okay with that.

I went to a party last night, after our “date”.  I felt underdressed in jeans and a nice t-shirt. I felt judged for not wearing six pounds of make up to cover the sunburn. I felt out of place because I’m still on the pale side and these girls are almost orange.  I felt fat because they don’t ‘remember’ how to eat most of the time. And I felt strange because I didn’t want to be drunk. No, I didn’t want to dance all over someone I wouldn’t see the next day. What would be the point in that? I wanted to catch up, and talk to people I cared for and none of them were there. Sure, the boys hung around me for most of the night because I wasn’t a drunken, blubbering mess. But these weren’t my friends. And they weren’t him.

He makes me comfortable. He makes me beautiful without makeup. He makes being myself easy. He makes me happy. Mostly, he fixes everything without even realizing it.

 

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