Because When It’s Right, It’s Pretty Fucking Perfect

I’m sitting on my housemate’s bed, on Fetlife, on SA, meeting potential clients and gossiping. I could be some sort of perverted teenager.

You know when they tell you that it’s only after the fact that you realise that the little things were actually the big things? They mean moments like this. I’m wrecked tired and would love to sleep…. but I love spending time with her, more.

I mean, I would never admit that to her face. She calls me a useless cow, and I call her a rotten bitch. Then we laugh. Then she falls asleep, her head drops, and she hits her face on the laptop screen. Or maybe she falls asleep and I suddenly grab her foot to let her know I’m off to bed.

We make tea for each other. We go through our war wounds and histories together. She gives me parenting advice, and I’m going to start an investment portfolio for her.

It’s the healthiest adult relationship I’ve ever had. If we were lesbians, it would be perfect. Instead, we’ll eat ice cream in each other’s beds, and raise my kids together, for however long it lasts.

For however long it lasts, it’s a series of moments for which I am so very thankful.

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