Them Purple Boots

Something about those purple rain boots… and those jeans you were in… and the way they fit you… And that shy smile when I caught you looking my way…

I'm sorry, I know this is too much, but… I can't even remember the last time my body had such a… reaction, in public. Every last drop of my blood, thrusting through my heart, overfilled with love for you, through a hot column in my core down into my corpora cavernosa, overfilling with lust. For you. Everything about your existence screaming “sex” at me.

Holy smokes.

If I snuck into God's office, sat down at his laptop, and tried to design myself my perfect woman, I don't know that I could possibly do better than you. Or even come close.

Your beauty, incomparable. Your shape, seemingly designed to drive me to the brink of insanity. All of that, but also so much more… You're kind, and sweet. Clever, corny. I have absolutely no doubts that we could sit and talk and laugh and fall in love over a cup of coffee. Or six. Such a simple thing, but I dream of snuggling up next to you on the couch and watching a movie together… I think you'd like that, too. Then spend the next couple decades quoting it at each other, while our friends and family shake their heads in consternation. Anybody want a peanut?

I dream of holding your hands, looking into those beautiful eyes, and openly declaring my love for you. For all the world to see.

How?

How are you even possible? How did the meandering path of my life manage to intersect yours? Too late, but still. There you are. Every single day. Symbolizing my every desire, from the most base to the deepest, most heartfelt. Connections forming already, I know, I can feel them, even though they shouldn't.

How…?