IT Guy has been writing me a love letter today. He is saying “I love you” in lines of code and leaving pixellated kisses for me to find across the front page of my blog.
In the first few years that we dated, I would beg IT Guy to write letters to me when we were apart. I am a person of words. I express myself the most articulately in print, and I assumed he was the same. Being very young then, I assumed everyone was the same.
My previous relationship had been with a fellow writer, and we were regularly separated by hundreds of miles. We wrote letters to each other constantly: late night lines filled with love and longing. The post office was as much a part of the relationship as either of us. Love letters were the natural form of expression for us both. Words. We loved through them.
When IT Guy and I started dating, I expected the same. But IT Guy is different from me. I cannot tell you how many years it took me to understand this. He’s not a writer. I mean, he can write quite well, but it’s not how he expresses his deepest emotions. He doesn’t love through words.
It has taken me years to understand, but I do now.
It’s not that he doesn’t write me love letters; he just does it in his own language.
IT Guy started this blog for me back in 2006, after I had stopped writing for far too long. He spent hours making it beautiful for me. He used his language to craft a vessel for my language.
Ever since, he has tended to my blog. I write. I pour in the words. But he tends to widgets and headers and updates. He winds his love for me around all my words.
Today, he has been tidying up things here. I didn’t ask him to do it. I mean, it needed to be done, but IT Guy has been working insane hours lately, and blog housekeeping was a low priority item. I don’t think we’ve talked about it in weeks.
But I started getting texts from him today like, “I think I fixed Twitter on your blog.” And then he added an Instagram page and updated the Follow buttons on the sidebar.
These changes are small, but each one is a quiet “I love you” from a man who is working such long hours that we barely see each other.
He wrote me a love letter today right across the face of my blog, so now I’m writing one back.
Thank you, Ben. I love you, too.
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Thank you, my dear. It’s all true. I love you too.
I’m still going to try and hide Twilight Sparkle somewhere around here….
The clean up looks good; nicely done, IT Guy.
But Megan, all this time, I thought you were the webmaster. I thought we could compare notes on widgets and plug-ins and plug-ins for widgets.