This is a test post. I am trying to make the font darker so that this blog layout is easier to read. If it shows up in black ink on my blog, then I have been successful. If not… shit.
The return of The Italian has been as much of a surprise to me as I’m sure it is for my long-time readers. Here’s a quick re-cap for those of you who need it… The Italian and I met on … Continue reading
He doesn’t know that I spent many hours reading about Turkish culture so that I could understand where he comes from.
He doesn’t know that I spent even more hours reading about Islam so I could understand what he believes in.
He doesn’t know that I had nightmares of him being enlisted into the Turkish military and being put into harms way.
He doesn’t know that I fell in love with him despite still caring for another.
He doesn’t know that when I was with him, no other man in the world existed.
He doesn’t know that the thought of losing him put me over the edge, into the worst anxiety attack I’ve ever had.
He doesn’t know that I went out and bought a whole new drawer full of sexy lingerie, just for him.
He doesn’t know how much I reached out to my friends and family in search of ways to help him get a longer Visa.
He doesn’t know that I’d have married him in a heartbeat to keep him here, because I loved him that much.
He doesn’t know that I thought he would make an amazing husband, and father.
He doesn’t know that with him, I’d never felt scared or alone.
He doesn’t know that he was exactly the man I’d been searching for my entire life.
He doesn’t know that I thought we were going to spend the rest of our lives together.
He doesn’t know how much I’m going to miss him.