I couldn't sleep. No matter what I did--- reading, watching television, eating a banana, stretching--- my insomnia would not ebb. Eric and I decided to not go with the sleep-in-different-beds tradition before our wedding day (since when have we been traditional?) and were comfortable cuddling beneath the covers.

And then it dawned on me that sleeping in different beds before the wedding day is not about making your heart grow fonder--- it's about getting a good night sleep because you're going to be an emotional mess. True to form, I was a wreck--- my mind filled with emotions, last minute details, and concerns if I really knew the man I was committing to for the rest of my life.

Really knew? I think the only person that knows him better is probably his mother--- and even then I think I've held his hand while he threw up in the bathroom a lot more than she has. In fact, I remember one New Year's Eve several years ago when he told me in a sorrowful drunken stupor that I was much nicer than mom.

Does that mean he's marrying his mother and we'll be divorced by the end of the year?

See there! My brain just wouldn't quit.

Finally, I gave into the couch in the living room, curling up on pillows with a blanket draped across me. As I looked around the room, I saw our home. Our lives across the walls, each piece of furniture or framed painting or photograph--- all of them ours. Together.

And with that realization, an overwhelming feeling of peace overcame me.

"What are you doing?" Said the voice in the darkness. I jumped, looking towards the hallway and seeing my future husband standing in the doorway. He was yawning, staring me down with a puzzled face.

"I can't sleep." I retorted.

He joined me on the couch, my favorite pair of faded Polo boxers wrapped around his waist.

"Me neither."

We sat in silence, sharing the blanket in our dark living room.

"Remember that picture frame?" I said, motioning to the top of the fridge in the adjacent kitchen.

He released a heavy sigh. "How could I ever forget it."

When the big quake hit LA several years ago, we lost pretty much everything that was in the kitchen. On the bottom of the shattered heap of glass and porcelain however, miraculously, was this picture of Eric and I in a glass frame--- still intact.

We continued to sit in the living room in silence. He reached over and took my hand.

"Here we are, Drew."

"Here we are." I repeated.

"Nervous?"

I looked at him like he was crazy. He smiled, squeezing my hand harder.

And then I remembered JD had phoned earlier with a question. "Did you call the florist?" I asked Eric.

"I told you twice already today. Yes, Drew. It's handled."

"I'm sorry."

He simply looked at me and then leaned over--- kissing me with a smile.

"I love you, Drew."

There is a little known secret with me that I've never shared with anyone, but I think, though we've never talked about it, that Eric knows exactly what it is. If he looks at me a certain way or touches my hand with the right combination of eye contact and spoken word--- I will instantly get an erection.

I've nicknamed it the intimacy hard-on, something a lot of gay men would think doesn't exist. But believe me, it does. I know a lot of my friends get turned on by videos, but all Eric has to do is really look at me straight in the eyes, say the L word, and I'm ready to do anything he wants.

I leaned forward and kissed him with "the kiss" that spoke, "I'm ready to make love."

Which is exactly what we did at 3:43AM on the eve of our wedding day. Or rather, on our wedding day. We may yawn through our commitment ceremony later, but we'll both be smiling because we'll know why.

We are in love, pure and simple.