I Like You

So, I realized something horrible: I completely forgot to write Alex's birthday blog.

Out of all the people that I will do this for and have done this, Alex was not the one I should have forgotten. I mean, I'm in love with him and live with him and call him my boyfriend and whatnot, so yeah, belated, but better late than never.

Ok, I'm sure you're all preparing yourself to not want to read on: I don't blame you.

I'm not one for VPDA: Verbal Public Displays of Affection. Since the beginning glimpses of social networking, VPDA has been at large. An annoying booger you just can't rid of. (Did I just compare VPDA to boogers-yes. Yes. I. Did.)

But I want to take this oh-so-special birthday blog not in a corny, you're the "wind beneath my wings," kinda way because Alex knows I love him. If he doesn't than he's sleeping on the couch tonight. With James.

I want this blog to rather be about the latter part of a quote I will always remember Alex saying:

"It's one thing to love someone, of course we can love them. But to like them, and love them. That, that's different..."

This is why I like Alexander Michael Dandino:

I met a hairy, burly man at a boring, ridiculous meeting. Arms crossed, and legs as well, what compelled me to sit next to the most uninviting person in the room was the fact that he was uninviting. In a room full of people acting like summer camp just started again, a wave of giggles and "OHMYGOD!!" and hugs. Who hugs at a meeting?

I didn't want to be there.

And neither did he.

And so I liked him.

Retrieving a pen I knew I wasn't going to use, but chew on the tip I saw his sock: black and hot pink argyle. A sock that belonged to a hairy man finally made me smile like the rest of the goons.

Alex is such hairy man with black and hot pink argyle socks. He doesn't own a single pair of white socks. It's a rule, a personal philosophy: a middle finger to the uncreative norm.

Alex is the sweetest walking middle finger. Don't let his sharp tongue fool you. He's the nicest guy you'll meet. And if he doesn't like you, you'll know. Alex is the worse liar about his emotions. His face, his demeanor, and most especially, his eyes, will give him away to whether he wants to listen to you-or punch you.

I really like that about Alex. I'm jealous of it, every day. I blame my mother for burning kindness into my brain. Even if I don't like you, I'll be polite to you and give you the benefit of the doubt. Alex won't. And for that, he's the most genuine man you'll meet.

I like that Alex reads, for pleasure. I never thought that would be important to me with the people I like. I mean I was close to threatening the end of our friendship to Gina for still not reading any Harry Potter and watching only the movies. Reading is a part of life, like breathing, to me, I like people who read. Even comic books.

Alex is a writer. And I like that. And no, I'm not jealous, competitive, or a bitch about it. I admire, I appreciate, and I'm in awe of his talent. Alex is humble, and really gets on my nerves sometimes because the man can't take a goddamn compliment every now and then. Humbleness is wonderful and modesty a solid character trait, Alex has both, and he's actually talented.

I like that Alex embraces his struggle as a writer. Without understanding that, you're truly lost.

Alex was born of a father who is the biggest smart ass and both sons are a fat chip off the old block. Poor Donna (Alex's mom).

On the day of his birth a nurse cried out "LOOK at that FOOT!" Alex, always, has both feet on the ground.

I like that he's creative and yet not insane. He's funny.

There's enough insane, weird, intensely introverted artists out there. Alex has not added himself to the pile. He'll make jokes and socialize. He has friends, who adore him. (It's sick. Talk about a few gay crushes...)

He's inappropriate and crude, and I love that about him.

I like that Alex chooses to spend his free time with me. That I get to call dibs forever. I like that on his birthday, we ate dinner together, in a new city, away from all our friends, and everything we were once comfortable with, drank, got drunk-fast-because work lunch is at noon and dinner had yet arrived, and proceeded to act like drunken fools throughout the rest of our meal. Yes, we even drunk texted (sorry Gina).

Alex is my partner-in-crime.

He high-fives me.

And then we kiss.

Happy Birthday.