Tonight I went to a formal dinner with my friend B. and her husband K. I like both of them very much, so it was very pleasant to go with them. They're good company, and they're a good couple. And like all couples who've been together a certain amount of time, they have shared memories, or simply stories they can back each other up on, or one can expand on for the other. I envy that part of being together: the part where, as I've described it before, you have a "we." I never had that with my last boyfriend, and the last time I had it was really only for a brief second with the person whom I was involved with after him who, when we were staying in a hotel together for the first time, said something about "our room." He said it so naturally that, I remember, I was a little taken aback. But it was a nice taken aback, and a nice moment - lovely enough for me to remember happily more than a year later, in any case.
It must be nice, coupledom, in that way. Of course the parts where you disagree, or where the person doesn't notice what you're wearing, or does irritating things, are not so nice. But the soft stuff round the back, the things we did, or simply the things that happened to happen while we've been together, and the accrual of that, that must be lovely.
What a romantic I am! But in the wrong way. Not a romantic for the parts where someone sweeps you up and kisses you for the first time, or buys you flowers -- although of course I'm a sucker for those parts, too. But a romantic for the parts where the two of you have accreted a past, a life: where you've just done stuff together, or told each other stories, or made statements about yourselves. The quiet stuff again, you see. Maybe, for me, love is being known, or trusting someone enough to let them know me, to unfold my carefully hidden self in front of them.
In other news, it seems there's a blog here on blogspot called something like, "Amateur Home Videos." I don't feel that title bodes well.
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