The beautiful boredom between now and forever

I was told that when I found "The One" it would be like finding the missing piece that would make my jagged puzzle parts whole and I would just know. At a glance, in a moment. Everything would just fall together and I'd realize yes, you were the one I've been looking for.

But it didn't happen that way. Not at all. When I think of when I first saw you I remember rough textures, feelings. If you asked me what's the first thing I noticed about you, I honestly can't tell you. I only remember feeling a quick hot flicker, like nicking your thumb on the edge of a knife so sharp it takes a couple breaths before you notice the blood welling on your skin.

But it wasn't quite pain. I just don't have a word piercing and delicate enough to describe it.

I'm embarrassed to say I don't even remember the first words we spoke. I don't know if I said hi first or if you did. All I know is, once those words crossed from thought into sound, I was spinning, powerful, terrified and buzzing with hope all at once because I knew. Something had changed. Everything.

I still feel that way. Even when it's not the seamless soulmate bliss I was told it would be. It's boredom and the endless repetition of the daily routine so predictable, we could pull a Freaky Friday, and I could live your day and you could live mine without missing a beat. It's the stained rings in the coffee cups that you leave on every flat surface in the house. It's petty squabbles over the best way to load the dishwasher or the right order to watch the Marvel Cinematic Universe movies in.

But it's also my head on your chest, rubbing my icy feet against your legs and you letting me. It's watching you standing over the stove pan searing a flank steak as I scrub the counters. It's hearing you hum "Goodbye, Yellow Brick Road" as the smoke billows through the kitchen and spills out the open window into the night stinging my eyes, and I know tomorrow morning my tangled hair will reek of smoke and sweat.

Even with the boredom, the misunderstandings and the eager, clumsy-mouthed apologies that always come tumbling out in the aftermath. I always remember who you are and who I am. And who we are is messy and ridiculous and sad and wonderful.

We don't make one another whole. We collide and collapse and build on one another and together we radiate a force into the universe greater than either of us on our own.