I saw my boyfriend figure skate today.
He invited me along for the dozenth time; I could make it tonight. We drove and drove and picked up a fellow ice-goer. We arrived and ritualistically put on all his gear. I watched, expectedly. I wished him luck as he stepped onto the ice, then retreated up to the benches to see onto the ice.
I saw my boyfriend figure skate today.
I sat down and bundled my coat around me. Then I saw him. He was gliding across the ice, his movements smooth and clean, so controlled but so free. I watched him... my eyes kept on him as he circled around. And then it all made sense.
I saw my boyfriend figure skate today.
It made sense: his movements on earth translated so well onto ice, into a projection of himself that I immediately understood... understood... what? Him? No, just something more... He's amazing. He transfers from ground to ice, he changes, expresses himself...
I saw my boyfriend figure skate today.
I love him.