Finding The One Turned Me Into a Cheesy Chick. And I'm OK with That.

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I don't usually get confessional on this thing. In fact, never have I blatantly written a first-person account of my own dating life as it's currently happening. But things are different now. I found The One.

My heart leaps just typing that. And, good Lord, I don't want this to sound over-the-top, sappy, sentimental or the like, but I'm not sure how I get around that.

Because, you see, finding The One, my One, has turned me into a cheesy chick. One of those girly girls I never felt any connection to. The archetype who wears pink and decorates and squeals and posts countless couple selfies and #mylove #loveofmylife #blessed on everything. One of those kind of girls, I most certainly am not.

Except.

I now wear my heart on my sleeve for him (one could argue that's pink).

I attempt to "decorate" his apartment when I stay over (read: try not to make a total effing mess of his pristine place).

I squawk with glee when he walks in a room (and when I watch his fine ass walk out of it).

I find myself wanting to hyper post. I want to document every. single. moment. that we share together. The backlit moments, the smiling moments, the picturesque, gotta-capture-the-light-just-so, he-looks-so-goddamn-handsome-right-now moments that pepper my days. I never want them to end. I want to hold on to them forever, and experience all the new ones to come. And I want to share them. With everyone.

My friends who have found their One tell me this is normal. My friends who haven't but aren't beat up about that fact are ecstatic that I've found it. They agree that this is how it should be. I don't talk to my struggling single friends about it. I don't think they'd get it. I sure didn't before now.

I'm a somewhat protective person when it comes to my personal life. Most of what you read here is a combination of vague personal experiences and the plights of my brave friends who come to me with their tales. I've hidden past boyfriends. I've lied about previous dates. I've forgotten names altogether.

But This One? My One? He's worth sharing. He's the reason I never wanted to post anyone before him. I guess I was waiting.

He hasn't changed who I am at the core. He simply inspires me to acknowledge and express the full range of my emotional self. That is a beautiful and life-changing thing.

You still will never find me in frills. My life will never be documented in perfectly architected shots awash in a marshmallow glaze. And if I #blessed anything, I've given him full rights to delete all of my social accounts.

But him I will post.

Because I was not That Girl, until I had a reason to be.