The Move

babe... your whole existence is one constant, lovely surprise

I will finally have a private space of my own, nestled within a tiny building on a paperbark tree-lined street in a quaint suburb East of Melbourne CBD, with an Eastwardly facing window that overlooks a tiny patch of earth and a fence on the outside, with wooden floorboards and a resident cat who purrs in the morning for his breakfast.

But most importantly, the boyfriend will be living just an arm’s length away from me, in the next room.

Tomorrow, for the first time in my life, I will have a room to call my own, in the same house I will share with my partner.

I've never felt like this before. What is this feeling?

I've told myself that I will be responsible and courteous and a good housemate on top of being a good husband. I will do all the things that I've done in the past, like blasting the toilets with Domestos on a regular basis and arranging everything in the room in a chaotic but reasonably neat manner. I'll start flower arranging again after a very very VERY long break of 11 years, and I'll feed the cat and do the laundry. I'll cook delicious meals on the stovetop and occasionally visit the boyfriend in his room just to look at him while he's fast asleep.

I want this to work so bad, I want us to work so bad. Tomorrow I start a new chapter in my life, and I'm just not sure if I'm up to it.

After all, it has been a long LONG time since I felt this secure.

It's been forever since I felt loved like this.