There was a night not too long ago, where we went out for the evening with some friends. We were out of town at the coast and went to dinner and a concert and then did a little karaoke-ing. My boyfriend got up there and sang "Good morning beautiful," by Steve Holy. Part way through the song, he came over to our table and sang to me. A little cheesy? Perhaps. Totally soaked it up? I did.
After our fun night out, we went back to our rental house and some of us got in the hot tub. My boyfriend stayed upstairs in case my daughter woke up. Without meaning to, my friend and I stayed up chatting until 3 am. Oops.
Once we finally broke ourselves away from our continual conversation, I snuck in to my room and checked on my daughter, who was fast asleep with her arms behind her head. I realized I was freezing, and frantically looked around for my sweatshirt. It was too dark and the only sweatshirt I could find belonged to my boyfriend. I hurriedly put in on and jumped under the covers. Still cold, I put the hood up over my head and giggled at how silly I must look. Then I inhaled deeply. His sweatshirt smelled like him, his cologne, his deoderant, him. My heart flip-flopped a bit and I realized I was smiling. I was completely twitterpated with my boyfriend.
Twitterpated: to be completely enamoured with someone; the flighty, exciting feeling you get when you think about/see the object of your affection.
Funny how a love song and a sweatshirt had that effect on me in the middle of the night...but it did. My boyfriend had me downright twitterpated without even knowing it. I rolled over and looked at him, sleeping deeply with his arms behind his head. I snuggled next to him because he's my boyfriend...
...and I'm so glad he married me.