…if you’re a pathological liar.

According to her, my lips are the 8th wonder of the world. An exaggeration to be sure, but I’m not complaining. Besides, it’s our second favorite thing to do. When she slips underneath my arm to snuggle or rest her head upon my chest while studying her biochemistry (not me), a wave of calm washes over me and inside, I feel my heart fluttering.

She knows not to say the Three Big Words. At least not yet. I want them to mean something real, and she agrees. It’s a great thing to be very careful to not turn love into a game, especially considering all I’ve been through. It’s already tough dealing with PTSD personally and I’m thankful she’s patient, caring and very accepting of the scars. It goes a long way towards healing.

She loves it when she makes me nervous so I’ll say something dumb now and then even when I don’t want to be a dork. As Orson Scott Card wrote in Ender’s Shadow, “I’m right here. This is who I really am. I’m not pretending.”