Today is something of a watershed crucial day for me. My beautiful girlfriend Amanda and I began what has developed into a really enjoyable relationship two and a half months ago.

If I weren't me, I would probably scoff at the idea of making a big deal at two and a half little months as well. But what I have come to call my 2.5 month problem, a phenomenon well known to many of my friends, urges me to feel rather excited today, so I think I will.

My longest relationship ever to date was 2.5 months, and I've done it three different times. In two of those instances, geography really served as the major reason for those relationships coming to an end. The other relationship came to an end because I simply grew bored with it. But I've grown bored with relationships in three weeks before as well, and I've gotten bored with others that made it just a little longer than that. One of the greatest guys I'll ever hope to know (who managed to make me out loud with a comment he left this afternoon) has even taken to diagnosing it as a pathology and extending it to a theory stating that I only become interested in girls who I feel I cannot have, consequently overlooking a number of terrific girls who could have probably made me happy, and the reason that I grow bored with relationships is that I lose the allure of the pursuit after a certain amount of time (say, oh maybe two and half months) because I start to realize that some girls really do like me, even the ones I would think would never have an interest. I try and laugh at it every time he launches into the theory, but I have to admit that he has based it on a lot of observation and insight. And as much as I hate to admit it, over the last year or two, I've started to believe him.

Today marks two and a half months with Amanda. Guess I had better make a choice then.

Full speed ahead, I say.

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DISCLAIMER: I'm about to get really sappy. Consider yourself warned.
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That was not the hardest decision I've ever made.

I've dated, albeit briefly, some of the most amazing girls, and with maybe one or two exceptions, each of them still has some role in my life, sometimes a very important role. My previous girlfriend was, before we started dating and has so remained, one of the closest friends I've ever had. While my relationships have not lasted long, the girls I've come to know in those short times have set a very high standard for any girl foolish enough to want to try her luck with me.

This thing I have with Amanda blows everything up to this point out of the water. And when I say that, I don't mean that she makes me realize that everything previous was not as good as I thought it was. Not even close. When I say that, I simply mean that Amanda makes me feel and believe things I have openly questioned as even being a possibility for me.

I'm crazy about her. Mad. I think about her constantly and worry far too much about her. Notice the smallest little things about her and pick up on things I don't think she has any clue I understand. And yet she can seem so mysterious to me as well. I want to know about her past, about what she has done and what she has always wanted to do but hasn't quite reached. I want to know what her very first job was and what her favorite job she's ever had was. I want to know the things that make her her.

At times I'm astounded by how beautiful she is. Bluest eyes I've ever seen. Deep in on the iris, just outside the pupil, sit these minute yellow splotches that make the blue all the more intense and interesting. Good skin, good hair, cute little mouth and a laugh so infectious that everyone around her cannot help themselves but to laugh out loud with her. The first day I saw her, I thought to myself that I must find some way to meet her, then I rebuked myself for thinking a girl like that would ever want anything to do with me. I think when I first asked her out I surprised her so much that she didn't know what to say, so she nodded her head in assent before she could think of a legitimate excuse to say no. Probably one of the luckiest nights of my life. I think I surprised her the first time we went out together, though in a good way. Maybe another in the luckiest nights collection.

Gorgeous on the inside as well. Surprises people with how smart she is, even as she tries to downplay her own intelligence. One of these days, I think she's going to start surprising herself with how smart she is too. Kind and considerate, but not so much so that everyone thinks she's an annoying Pollyanna princess. Supportive but not smothering. Mirthful and always laughing, every time I see her. And astute enough to realize that dorky guys like me, the ones who will never sit on a homecoming court or throw a football sixty yards or have their names written in lights or have groupies following them around, nonetheless have a lot of great things to offer and will glorify them in a blog that hundreds of people read every week.

I still have occasional moments of incredulity that she likes me so much. I know I'm a nice guy and I have a great future and a lot to offer, but I also know that anywhere I go, I will find other nice guys just like me who have lots of the same things I do, but maybe also have a few more inches on me (height wise, of course) or more athletic ability than me or a brighter future or whatever. It's not absence of confidence, it's logical reality. But instead I get to be the guy she thinks about at night and kisses on the cheek and curls up in a warm bed with her on cold winter nights. The thought makes me giddy. Here I am, in the middle of a cornfield, hanging out with a lot of people with whom I really don't fit in all that much, far away from my family and most of my friends, working my ass off every day and having very little to show for it most of the time, here I am with a life that could make me so depressed at times, and yet I'm enjoying the hell out of myself right now. I've probably spent over 100 hours in the library over the last two weeks, I have three very difficulty exams staring me in the face, and I'm ecstatic. My life seems great because it's challenging, exciting, fresh and full of potential. My life is great because Amanda is a big part of it.

I hope I have impacted her and continue to impact her in ways similar to what she's doing with me. I want to make her smile and laugh and giggle and roll around on the floor in front of a raging fire until she's exhausted from the enormity of it all. I want to take her to places she's always wanted to go and make her feel things she's always wanted to feel. I want her to stare at me when I'm not looking and think to herself that I am the most attractive guy she's ever known, even if she's staring at my hands. I want her to think that she's lucky that she gets to curl up with me in a warm bed sometimes and feel the warm massages of my exhalations as I lightly kiss her on the back of the neck. I want to be everything for her that she is for me.

I want to be the kisser she's ever had. Hey, I've got an ego just like anyone else.

So yeah, two and a half months. Not that impressive, I know. Some intramural seasons last longer than that. Two and a half months. Big freaking deal.

But the last two and a half months HAVE been a big freaking deal for me. And I'm excited to make tomorrow two and a half months and one day, and then two days, three days, and many more days after that.