A New Turn-On
Alphabet Soup
Dear T,
We only met this weekend but already I know that I love you. I hate to sound like I’m new at the game of love, because I’ve been around the block a time or two. But really, it’s hard to believe I’ve survived without you all this time. My quality of life has improved since I met you, and I am a better-rounded individual for having you in my life. Just this morning I was able to engage in some office chit-chat about a topic I never would have been able to discuss without having spent that time with you last night.
I have to admit that when I saw you, sporting that silly grin on your face, I was struck breathless. It was my birthday, as you know, and you were the best surprise of all. I loved how you felt sitting in my lap, waiting for me to get to know you better, all the possibilities in the world before us.
Some of my friends have known you for a while, T, and the things they tell me are so exciting. I can’t wait for the day that you can you actually read my mind and tell me what I want without me even having to drop hints or push your buttons to get what I need. I love that I can tell you my interests and you’ll remember what makes me happy, and you’ll do everything you can to find things to keep me satisfied. I love that you won’t judge me, no matter what nutty things I spend my time on — you’ll just support my decisions while offering me more and better choices.
One of the first things that made me love you — and simultaneously drove me insane — was the way you spell your name. It makes me think of Prince, for some reason, and that grammatically sassy song “I Would Die 4 U.” It makes me think of e.e. cummings and bell hooks. It makes me think of AmFAR. You know I love an orthographic gimmick.
I’m so relieved that you aren’t homophobic, and that you’ll sit through Queer Eye for the Straight Guy with me as many times as I want to watch it, and not criticize me if I want to watch the same bits over and over (“tragickistan!”). You are just as excited as I am that Boy Meets Boy starts this week. And I love that all I have to do is tell you that the sun doesn’t rise and set on Will & Grace and you won’t make me to watch it every week, but you’ll let me watch it whenever I want.
Today when I was telling people about my birthday and how you came into my life, some of them looked at me quizzically. They’ve never even heard of you, T. I am stunned by this. I guess people have different priorities, and they don’t share the same passions that I do. They don’t understand how someone like you and someone like me would ever cross paths, would ever fulfill each other’s lives in this way.
Right now, you’re sitting in my house, waiting for me. You’re working extra hard to make sure I have a special evening, and that everything I want is available to me. I can’t think of a more conscientious mate. I also know you’re ready to help my friends — all I have to do is tell you what they like and you’ll present special packages for me to give to them. You’ll be there for Kim, my partner, and indulge her sci-fi tendencies without making me endure them; you’ll cater to Chris, our housemate, and her cooking hobby without making me feel even a little bit guilty for claiming that I am allergic to anything related to the kitchen.
You’re perfect.
When we were just starting to get to know each other, before I gave you full access to my life, we had a talk about how much of a commitment I wanted to make to you. You let me choose a lifetime commitment or a monthly check-in where we could decide if we should keep it up or not. Wouldn’t you know it, after a usual bout of anxiety over making a big decision, I signed up for life. And you just sit there looking at me with that goofy smile.
Is it wrong of me to think about when you might die? Having just made such a big commitment, I worry that I’ll lose you too soon. I also worry that I should have waited and found someone with more capacity than you have. I know, it’s ridiculous, isn’t it? You give me so much. It’s obnoxious for me to think about what I’m missing by staying with you. I know that you’re not sitting there wondering what I might be doing better in this relationship. Instead, you ask and ask and ask what you can do for me.
Oh, T. I don’t even know your last name, but who cares. Our love is bigger than names. Our love is gigantic. It’s really a Hollywood kind of love, not something that should be contained to the small screen. It’s a no-commercial-interruptions kind of love. It’s the kind of love that lets you pause and rewind and, if you’re feeling daring, fast forward. It’s a crazy kind of love for the new millennium.
I can’t help feeling like we were meant to be together. I know you feel the same way. And if you’re free on Sunday at 9 p.m., I hope you remember that I am just as enamored with Sex and the City as I am with you.
Don’t screw it up.
Kristina Campbell and her new TiVo live in Takoma Park. The world is their oyster. “Alphabet Soup” appears biweekly — unless there’s something too good to miss on TV — and the author can be reached at kcampbell@metroweekly.com.
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