One Month. Just One Month. In that time we entered and re-entered each other's lives countless times. I don't even know what brought us back to each other so many times, but I sure as hell knew that we couldn't let each other go. It almost felt like we had a magnet inside each of us, pulling at each other's core-- pulling us right back into each other's arms, into each other's lives. But why couldn't we settle down, commit to each other and sit at peace? One month turned into three, and three months turned into seven. Seven Months. Just seven months of "taking it slow"sharing an intense physical and emotional attraction without actually being intimate. Seven months went by and our secret emotional unsaid relationship grew-- it felt like we had known each other for years. Late night phone calls. Afternoon walks. Sunday morning hikes for miles while being immersed into the souls of one another. Perhaps we were together in another universe, there had to be a reason why we were so attached. 

But Month Eight was different. Month Eight felt real. Not "take me out to dinner, open my door, hold my hand real"-- he already did that; and not "talk to me on the phone until sunrise, and ask me personal questions real"-- he did that too.  But real on a whole other level-- a free, secure, real.  A "I can't get enough of you, I want to just listen to your voice talk, I can't stop staring at your beauty" real. 

And Five Months after that. One year into whatever it was we were doing or having, it happened. Last night we were sitting in his car and he stared at me. He stared at me for a while, with a longing stare. At that moment my heart dropped into my stomach, and he kissed me. Grabbed my face, pulled me closer, leaned in, and I gently felt his lips land upon mine. He kissed me, after one whole year. 

And reality hit me. This whole year it was real-- real without a title or a five word question, "Will you be my girlfriend?" real. Because there were thousands of other questions he would ask, and millions of other conversations we would have- it was real, without sex, without intimacy, without foreplay-- it was  a real and raw, a controlled relationship. A free, secure, carefree, exclusive, loving, worry-free, caring realness, where he protected me and took care of me, without consciously thinking about it. It was as real as second-nature to him, as real as my smile when I first met him, and as real as our kiss last night. 

It was Really a Real Reality.