I always imagined that having someone love you as much as you loved them was bliss. And simple. And peaceful. And required minimal effort and you could both just blissfully exist.
I swear to God this is what I believed.
Turns out it's slightly different. Turns out it's still a charade of emotions and pushing back and tip-toeing and apologizing and losing your temper and freaking out and screaming and needing your personal time and hating him for being near you and hating not being alone so you make him go for a walk and then you start questioning what the hell you signed up for and scheming how you can change things back to the time when it was just you and you had as much alone time as you wanted, and even much, much more alone time than you wanted, which makes you realize that you kinda liked having this fellow around after all and maybe you don't want him to go for a walk.
And then Google Latitude comes in handy.
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