I spent the weekend on a cloud somewhere above number nine. I've met the man who I think has incredible odds of being Mr. Right - the full package, the whole enchilada, a truly amazing and good man. His nickname is going to be Paulo, which a website tells me is African for "place of rest." While I think the site is on the wrong continent, I like the sentiment.
I've had some great relationships in the past, but I've never felt so calmly ecstatic about somebody. I'm utterly crazy about him, but I'm not crazy in general because of him. At some point this weekend I looked up in to his tawny eyes and said, "You are absolutely believable." Which, to me, is much better than if he'd turned out to be unbelievable. I'm amazed at his existence, but find myself very ready and willing to accept that he does exist and that I fill that same void in his world.
We finish each other's sentences and each pleasantly shock the other by doing something in such a way that you'd swear minds had been read because it's so perfectly what the other is looking for...like how he left me a note written as a crossword puzzle when he left this morning after I'd gone to work, or how I said, without prompting from him, that it would be fun to get gussied up and sit behind him at the poker table so I could distract all the other players - something he'd talked about with a poker buddy in a 'wishful thinking' conversation.
I'm blissfully happy right now, and I'm taking the advice of my good friend Georgiana by soaking this all up to put in reserve for times down the road when life doesn't seem quite as blessedly perfect as it does right now. Because, let me tell you, Paulo adds an entirely new lustre to my already fantastic life.
Three good things:
1) He passed the test at lunch with some of my friends - essential
2) I'm so secure with him that I don't feel even a hint of desire to forget about the rest of my life in order to be with him
3) I think I have a healthy supply of schmoop (thanks to Geo this is one of my new favorite words) headed my way
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