Giving in.

I always knew I was different. When every one I knew was playing football on the street until dark (they were other times) I was in imperial Rome, listening to Caesar, or Middle Earth or at the other side of your common variety wormhole. I held the lines against rampaging alien broods, seduced princesses throughout the Multiverse, crossed the Gobi desert looking for Alexander's treasures, learned swordplay with Masamune-sensei in medieval Japan, helped capt. Nemo navigate the Nautilus.

Eloquent, I was. Popular, I was not.

So I accommodated. I gave in. I thought no one would be interested in it, so I kept it close to the heart. Things changed with Chuck et al, but it was a slow boil. When I met women, it was a similar story. I always thought this was something odd, dirty, something to be ashamed of. I have to say that some of my relationships managed to reinforce this idea to no end. (This set of concepts can also be extrapolated to a number of other ideas, like those of you that know me will know....)

So there I was. Pretty sure I would have to have a Geek-cave, somewhere musty, wet and slimy, to keep what I liked, never again to see the light of day.

And then the meerkat came. Someone that was beautiful and true and honest and pure. Someone without an ounce of repression and malice. Someone that takes me as I am, no more, and no less. I need not to moderate, to put the hologram of normality on. I actually think I tried to shock her at the start: 'this is what I am, take it or leave it.' And she took it.

Words elude me at time to describe how much I love and care for her. She is everything I ever dreamt and more.

I love you, Jo. Here's to the future.

:)