It's Leslie's birthday. [Ed. Note- neither when it was written, nor posted, was that sentence actually true. It was written days beforehand, and posted the day after. Today.] I've been sorta hemming and hawing about whether to do the typical me thing and do a sort of big mushy public show of affection type thing, and decided somewhat against it, despite the fact that "public" in this sense means about 6 people, give or take. There are various things I'd love to use this occasion as an opportunity to shout from the rooftops, but I think some of them might be better appreciated in a more private, more quiet situation. So, until I find out, I'm going to compromise. I'm just gonna tell a little story. I'm also going to make the first use of a "cut" like you see on livejournal, because this will probably end up being long.

This isn't a particularly riveting story because of what happens - the plot isn't a barnburner. What it does have is some pretty serious character development. It makes you absolutely love one of the characters, without any gimmicks. Well, at least, it does for me.

Last Saturday I managed to stay in town after Thanksgiving observed, at the end of a rather up and down emotional week. This gave me the opportunity to see Leslie before leaving town, though I knew it would be for a pretty brief period. To my delight, it ended up being far longer than I was expecting, but that's not really relevant to the story here.

I didn't want to impose on her night, as I knew she had things to do, but we both wanted to see each other, and so we arranged it. I had absolutely no plan. As mentioned in a prior entry, I was later than I wanted to be getting to her workplace, because I was doing stuff for my mom. But, I got there, and eventually, she came out. We discussed my utter lack of plan, and what we could do. I sat there in my car, simply overjoyed to just be with her. She suggested we go play some pool, and wished to drive, so off we went. We drove around, found the pool hall, and decided against it, and just wandered around. To me, that was just as fun as playing pool - just being with her. This would prove obvious in my forthcoming suggestion as to what to do - going to Wal-Mart. I had nothing at Wal-Mart I needed, had no reason to want to go, but I simply love walking around places with her, looking at things, commenting on what we see, and teasing each other.

She didn't say "What the hell is wrong with you?," or "Wow, that's really exciting," or even "Oooh yeah, that cashier Javier is a hot little number," though it's possible any of those was running through her mind. She just said Okay, smiled, and reached for my hand, and off we went.

I'm going to go on a little tangent from the riveting aimless-driving-walmart-visitation storyline here to talk about this, because it's something I've wanted to have an explosive little emotional moment about for about a month now, and decided to save it for this, which I knew in some form or another I'd have a big written commemoration for. I can't tell you people how much it means to me when she reaches for my hand - nor how deeply happy it makes me that she does it so often. It's part of why I made the suggestion to simply walk around a giant department store. It's one thing if a girl will let you put your arm around her in a movie theater, or even while walking together, especially if you're a clumsy oaf that makes this type of walking a disaster waiting to happen. It's another if she will take your arm or hand when you offer it. It has been my exquisite pleasure to be around one who will reach out for you if that kind of contact is lost for too long. It is the kind of desire for connection that I feel inundated with on the inside but have in the past been too afraid would look clingy and posessive if I clumsily tried to translate it to action, brought to life in a simple and unassuming gesture.

I try not to show her the sort of watery eye I still sometimes get at that gesture, but I doubt I can hide the heaving warm feeling in my chest that it gives me. It's beneficial in that regard that often times when this happens, she's reaching behind her, so she can't see. I feel silly right now, even, typing this out where I'm not even visible beyond text, for putting so much into the fact that she reaches for my hand. But it's something that means an awful lot to me, and blubbering about it is something that's been building up in me for a while.

Back to the story. She reached for my hand in the car, and I kissed it. We went to Walmart, and she reached for it in the parking lot on our way in. It happened countless other times as we wandered past the post-thanksgiving Walmart crowds. Sometimes, when we need to navigate around people, we break that connection. Sometimes, to maneuver around or change directions, we do some fancy handswitching. Sometimes, just for the hell of it, we combine that with something that turns into a little dance. Sometimes it's a tango, sometimes its one of those spinny victorian numbers, but regardless, its silly, it's sweet, and I absolutely love it. And I could honestly give a flying damn who sees it and thinks we're crazy.

During this same trip, she indulged my habit of never going through a Walmart when I'm not on some kind of time constraint without strolling through the toy aisles. She didn't say "Man, what a dork you are," or "Hey Captain Kirk, the action figures are that way," or even "You suggest we walk through a store, and then the icing on that cake is going through an aisle filled with products aimed at people half your age?"

We wandered through, as we do, pointing out things to each other, cracking jokes, and making references to things we've talked about in prior conversations. Among those things that night was the Goldenbooks series, how they either still have the gold binding we both remember, or brought that back after switching off. The books on that shelf look identical to the ones I had as a child, which were purchased for my brother, which makes them even older. As I would find out, some of them were identical, as she managed to find her favorite one, The Poky Little Puppy. She asked me to read it to her, right there in the store, and I thought that was about the most adorable thing in my life to date. So, I did. We sat there with people looking for Spongebob etch-a-sketches whizzing around us, and I read the story to her, while she softly corrected my numerous screwups, and smiled. When we finished, she thanked me, and kissed me.

I got a kiss for doing that. I'm telling you, there is some kind of karmic math that is going to mean years of torture in my future for that. But for right then, at that moment, I was the happiest guy who ever suggested a trip to Walmart as an activity.

Other things happened at that Walmart, and later we even went to a convienience store, where I continued my lucky streak with lottery tickets. But the actual minute for minute account of the evening loses all the parts that matter to me, and this story's gone on long enough.

If I had only one opportunity to say something nice about someone, and I chose that I really enjoyed walking through a department store with them, that would seem pretty crappy. I've always felt a secret jealousy of the young couples I see in the most mundane places, like grocery stores, dividing up lists, racing each other, one grabbing the other's hand to rush them off to show them something as eye-popping as a surprisingly green bunch of bananas. Making jokes to each other while they squeezed the cataloupes. I always felt those people knew something I didn't, and always had a hunch that I would be like them. The few times I've had that experience with someone, I've loved it. So maybe it's not so crappy.

If you can find utter happiness even in the mundane, the world is your oyster.

I think my reaction to those people in supermarkets will change from now on. I don't think I have anything to be jealous of anymore.

I just gotta reach out my hand, and shamelessly do my own theme music.

Happy Birthday, baby.

[what a goob]