DIRT: the grunge diaries (𝒱𝒾𝒸𝓉𝑜𝓇𝒾𝒶'𝓈 𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓈𝒾𝑜𝓃)

entry # 95 - Stanley 3:17

'Thank you for the flowers. And the drumsticks... it was very sweet of ... you? Or was it Steve?' I chime in, making the most out of his 'tell me something ', and dropping this there and now because he really does deserve a couple thank you's for having been an absolute gem of a dude to me. Starting from last night's knightly courting, to this morning's flowers, all the way to the way he kept me tame when all I wanted was him, in a couple unholy ways. Honestly, thank you's were long overdue, sarcasm while conveying them was mandatory ... and honestly, I regret not having thanked him before, but I was too drunkenly horny to acknowledge him for having done a few nice things for me. I am tamer now, much much tamer, I've reverted to lovergirl, I'm getting lovely hair rubs and forehead kisses... and in and out, I am very grateful I have the sweetest non boyfriend boyfriend EVER ! He has multiple personality disorder, you can never really know if you're handling Sean, Ralph or Steve, but his personality clashes don't make him any less sweet than he is! I have him well figured out, and I know the guy who's giving me princess treatment now is hundred percent Sean ! I don't know if it was Sean or Steve getting me 'I fucked up with you' flowers, that's why I'm doing the ironic and asking this silly little question. The note attached to the flowers, sarcastic and aggressive sweet, totally gives off post shitfaced-ness Steve. The overall chivalry to buy me traditional Levantine flowers really gives off Sean. And how could I not love him? It's impossible not to love a guy who ain't afraid to apologise and chase me to exhaustion after fucking up with me. It's impossible not to love a guy who's finally realised I ain't Italian, and who ain't afraid to let me know it! And I chuckle like an idiot, because if it wasn't for the super rude the reception lady of yesterday, the one who checked my papers written in Arabic abjad with almost disgust in her eyes, and asked me if I was a refugee, an expat or a terrorist, I would've gotten Italian cornflowers delivered to my room, instead of Damask roses ! Flowers after my heart from a man after my heart !

'It was Stanley. He's a little in love'. He chimes in, and we both laugh like the idiots we are, when he candidly admits he has another alter ego... the fourth one I've encountered so far. We have Sean and that's it, man after my heart and potential love of my life, we have Ralph the sarcastic riot, we have Steve the war architect... and we apparently have Stanley too, man of thoughtfulness and genuine feelings. And what really sticks with me, about this impromptu, sarcastic little confession, is that he's cryptically just told me he's in love with me. And I don't know what to do with this piece of information.

This is the most straightforward Sean has ever been about his feelings for me, and this is a lot of a step up, since the 'I fell for you and I can't get myself back up' and the 'I am nuts for you' of two days ago... and man, I am freaked out big time, but I'm cherishing this 'confession' with every ounce of my being. Feelings are all mutual, here in what of room 317, and it is undeniably beautiful. But it's also kinda scary, not gonna lie. Because we apparently love eachother and we really are meant to be ... but deep in my heart, I know we just can't stand the test of time together. I just know we can't be a real item for more than just a few months. I know that this whole romance will crumble down the moment I get back to my homeland and I leave him behind in Seattle. I know that feelings aren't enough, when there's one hell of a distance between the lovebirds. I reckon he knows it too, because he's a smart man, smarter than I could ever aspire to be... but still, he's handing his heart over to me, no stress and no paranoias entailed. I'm welcoming his heart and I'm making internal resolutions to keep it safe, because his big, big clowny heart is my favourite thing about him ... but why are we doing this? Why are we taking the risk? Why are we deliberately letting ourselves fall in love with eachother, if we both know we can't be eachother's person ?

I whine, because I know where this conversation is going, and I'm not sure I will be able to handle it without crying like the sap that I am. So, I don't say one thing. I don't show one weakness or one excessive thought. I just lift my head off his lap, and I silently snuggle right next to him. He instantly spoons me, throws his both arms around me, and showers my right cheek with the sweetest little kisses I've ever received in this life. Now, I'm feeling loved for real. I'm feeling loved good, and I'm digging every second of this totally new sensation. Love is rushing free through me, from my head all the way to my toes, curled with excitement and sheer surprise. The man I love with my entire heart loves me back, genuinely so, and his genuine love was literally all I was aiming for ... then why, why ain't I bouncing off the walls with happiness ? I mean, I am happy, I am grateful and very, very happy, but why can't I just be hundred percent happy? Thoughtless ? Why do I keep thinking about the day I'll be hopping on a flight back home, and he'll be carrying my suitcases to the gate until it's time to say goodbye forever ? Can't I like ... erm... smuggle him into my suitcase and bring him home with me, like he's an import, exotic spice or something of the kind ? I promise I'll give him to his bandmates, whenever they need him for touring and music recording purposes. I am no selfish ! And I am his biggest fan after his mother, that's for sure !