Monday, September 03, 2012

meet: august

I think it's time I told you a little about this guy. I've actually been talking about him ever since I created my blog last fall, but I've never really dedicated a blog-post to him.
The past month or so, he has been running under the nickname "A" - and that'll continue. Mostly because it's convenient. 
Obviously, that's not his name. His name is August. Like the month. Like my favorite month.

We've known each other for more than three years, but have only been a couple for one. Before that, I considered him my very best guy-friend. I have always admired him for his will-power and his person in general, but in a quite friendly manner. I think I admire all of my friends, both guys and girls. The thing is though, that this guy is different.

August is different. I have, to be honest, never in my life met a guy like him. It sounds like a cliché to say something like that about the person you're in love with, but it's true this time. August is not different personality-wise. In that case, everybody would be different. No, he's different - because I have never, in my 18-year-old-life, met a man so gallant as him.

In fact, our first meeting was in our french-class three years ago. Our french teacher passed on some working-sheets to each row. Ordinarily, people would just pass them along. But not August. He stood up, gave a sheet to each person on our row while shaking their hands and introducing himself. I was last in the row, and as I witnessed this situation, I literally thought to myself: "What the f*** is he doing?".

I was, so to speak, not at all used to (then) 15-year-old-boys treating me like that. Gallant.

As I witnessed his behavior, it became clear to me, that his dad had raised him good. I thought to myself, that August had jumped out from a time-machine. He behaved like a man.

His behavior was one thing. His looks quite another. He was tall. Really tall.
2 meters and 2 cm.
Ice-blue eyes.
Nice hands (sorry, but that's one of the first things I notice about guys in general).

I was, so to speak, fascinated.
But that's all I really was back then. Not any longer.
Now, I'm very much in love.

August and I share, I think, everything. Ever since we moved to Paris, I consider him my right hand. I hope the feeling is somewhere near mutual. I think it is.

Yes, from the very first second we met, he treated me like I've never been treated before. He makes me feel like I've never felt before - a feeling that I can't really describe. I guess he makes me feel very, very special and very, very worthy. He opens the doors for me, carries my bag, he pulls out my chair and he invites me to dinner. He cooks like a chef, he's into politics, he's smart as hell. I don't really think he knows how much I appreciate all his small efforts. I think, to him, it comes naturally. But not to me. To me, it means the world.

And that's the thing - I think most people feel like that around him.
That's why he's different.

Take care, my friends.
Much love and gros bisous

☆ ☆ 

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