Monthly Archives: February 2012

I fervently believe in signs. I look for them, they make themselves known, they’re everywhere- and I truly believe that. It’s the only way I know that life is listening.

I’ve recently met a new guy- and he’s lovely, and kind, and smart, and exactly the type of man I envisioned myself with at 17. The 17 year old me was a hot damn mess, but there were some things she knew better than I do now as I’m approaching my final year in my 20s. She was a mess, but she knew herself pretty well.

He and I’ve fallen into this amazing routine of emailing each other. But like everything. We really got to know each other through these incredibly long missives, and of course I have elaborate plans to publish- but that’s a story for another day. When we make plans, it’s in these emails- snuggled between how his weekend was and what he thought of an article I sent him. There’s no post date follow up text, it’s a letter. Texts are reserved for “on my way(s)!” and “see you soon(s)!” It’s lovely.

Except for the anticipation. It’s the modern equivalent of obsessively looking for the postman. It is a part of this our story, and I want to savor it, but the crazy part of me is seeping through and making it incredibly difficult.

Here is where those glorious signs are coming in. During the month of these amazing exchanges, on those rare occasions when he veers away from our (!!!) routine, and I find myself constantly refreshing Gmail, they make themselves apparent. And always in the form of his name. It almost seems like it’s made up just for me. I’ll see ads with his name during those moments of doubt, and I won’t see them again. I’ll refresh Tumblr, and see his name in the most absurd and arbitrary ways. I’ll run across it while flipping through a magazine. And it’s enough.

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