You're smart folks. You've all gathered that I have a man. And that he makes me smile. And you've even seen him (especially if you follow me on insty). Well, he has a name and it is Matt. We've been dating since January and as a matter of fact, our eight month anniversary was last week (nerd alert). We had sort of a slow start (I needed to take things at a snail's pace) but he was patient and we kept hanging out and enjoying each other's company and wouldn't you know it? I fell for him. The truth is, it's been a long time since I've dated a nice guy and it felt a little weird in the beginning. Why is he calling when he says he will? Why is he taking the day off from work to help me move? Why is respecting my space when I ask him to? These were things I wasn't used to and because of my independent nature it took me awhile to warm up to the idea. And to let my (GIANT) guard down. But somewhere around six or seven months things got pretty serious. It was that moment when I realized that it's more than just having a fun time together (which we most definitely do). But we also make a really good team. I'm pretty sure he realized it long before I did, and luckily he was patient with me while I figured it out. Thank goodness he find me somewhat adorable. And even though we're not exactly sure where we're going or exactly how we're going to get there, we're both excited and ready for the ride. And that's pretty awesome.
Oh, and it doesn't hurt that he's not only a cutie pie, but he also indulges my insatiable need for selfies.
Oh and he willingly wears an Atlanta Braves shirt in solidarity. And by willingly I mean I bought it for him and forced him to wear it. But still. p.s. Let's all take a quiiiiiick moment of silence for my effing perfect eyeliner in this pic.