I went down to the city on Saturday to hang out with John and the boys to celebrate day 5 of Roommate 1's ten day birthday extravanza. I took with me a bottle of wine and a bottle of Jameson which John and I (with a slight bit of help from Roommate 1) made quick work of. When I got there I was amazed to see that my beautiful man had shaved his beard off...I'm happy to report that he started growing it back already. It's not that he doesn't look good, because he does...he just doesn't look like him. The beard is pretty damn sexy.

We looked like a pretty dangerous crowd taking over the city. Roommate 1's brother and his friends were down and they were a pretty wild group and then you have the rest of us raging drunks...what we lack in menace, we make up for with our drunken enthusiasm. John and I left the crowd behind and did our own little bar tour...it was then that he finally said that he loved me. But we were drunk, did he mean it? I was too happy and too scared to find out.

Apparently he did mean it this time, because the next day I didn't mention anything, I just laid low. We stopped at a corner store on the way to brunch with his roommates and he said to me, "You know I wasn't just drunk, I really did mean it. I love you." I looked at him and said, "You mean for real? We're not just saying this because "it's fun" are we?" And he repeated himself, "No. I love you." So now instead of saying every word other than love, I can finally say to him (without freaking him out), "I love you Johnny..." instead of my "I adore you John" or "You're not half bad kid." He made me the happiest girl alive, and I'm happy he finally caught on to how wonderful I am...kidding.

I'm definitely kidding and he knows it because between being a sloppy drunk last night, getting into another tear filled screaming match and then making him have to wake up at 5am this morning and drive me home and then turn around and drive back to his house...I'm far from wonderful (at least not consistently). However, on the whole tense drive back to my house I kept trying to make it clear that I'm going to make an effort to be less of a ridiculous drunkard and more responsible for myself and I mean it, if it will make things even better between John and I. I would do anything for this boy, you name it kid, and I'd do it for you!

I don't think he knows how much I appreciated this weekend, and how much being with him helped. Typically, I'm a wreck on the anniversary of the accident. And true to form, I was an inebriated wreck but I was a happy wreck, rather than the sobbing mess I typically am. He kept my mind off things, and although I don't think John knew what he was getting into, he was a real trooper dealing with me; it takes a strong man to put up with my antics and shit... I promise to tone it down...promise.

So, he loves me...and I love him...and even though I'm dead tired, and my eyes get heavy everytime I blink, my heart races when I think of where this little journey is going to take us. Together, we can accomplish some amazing things, I think.

This was a horrible post but I really just wanted to write, "he loves me" because that's really the only important part of this little story. He loves me. Yay!