In Love with Dyslexia

I am very much in love with a guy who is dyslexic. Until a couple of years ago I did not even know what the word meant, actually neither did he. It was only while in conversation with a friend did he figure out that he had the learning disability. Imagine after twenty years of confusion he finally figured out his childhood. He figured out that certain things that he did were not abnormal at all, but only different. Certain things that he did were not weird at all but only a part of who he was. Just because he was different didn't mean he was weird.
I cant say that I was there for him, i was'nt, I should have been. Actually at that point it just didnt mean anything to me, I had'nt gone through it, and if I had'nt then it was not real.
He tried to tell me that finally he was at peace because now he knew that the things that he did and the way he felt could not be helped, it was a rare gift, he had just started to understand himself all over again. The more he read about dyslexia the more he found out about the kind of person he was. I was'nt there for him. I did'nt understand it, I couldnt see how the alphabets danced in front of you when you tried to comprehend them, how the lines in a page would become one big block of grey, or how a person could'nt tell the difference between 'a' and 'b' and 'a' and 'd' .I mean were they not simple things, were they not the first lessons that you learn in school.Aparantly not, the first things that he learnt in school was that it was a punishment to be different, that if you were different you would not be liked, if you were different then the teachers hated you, that you were stupid, even if you knew that you were not. I did listen at times but understood nothing. Every time he told me things about himself, I would try and compare my childhood with his and tell him that things like this happened to all of us. I was like the others who thought he was making excuses. I was the only one he could tell but I was not ready to listen. I would always try to fight him or try to push him into doing things that I thought were correct, what if they were wrong by him, how did he feel, shattered, that the person whom he was getting so close to just did not understand him and was trying to make him live in her way.
At this moment , sitting here in front of my computer, I am feeling so lost, that I was living with a stranger. I just saw what I wanted to see in him. I just understood an illusion something that wase'nt even there.
I did love him then and now after being with him for seven years I love him more than ever. It dosent matter that he is dyslexic, infact Im in love with the fact that he is. I love the little things that he does. I mean to be loved by a special person is the greatest thing that can happen to anyone of us.
He dosen't believe in getting presents or flowers on an occasion, he would probably forget to do it, I might get angry, because I think it is correct to do so, what a jerk I am. He gets me presents when I do not expect them, he gets me presents when he feels like it, when his heart tells him to.
He probably would not move a muscle when Im screaming and shouting that he should help me around the house, I curse him, he smiles at me, I sneer at him, he kisses me, I throw a tantrum and he will sit peacefully in front of his computer making faces at his screen. And the next morning when I wake up, I will see that all my cloths have been washed and are drying in the air conditioner, what a lovely surprise.
Once when in the third semester of college, all of us were tensed and were busy finishing of our work. He had loads of incompletes and I was really scared that he was going to get a year repeat. He would go missing every evening, he would not be in his room or in the studio, I would get really mad as he was supposed to be finishing off his work. When I asked him what he was upto he would tell me that he was doing his packaging assignment at the workshop. What a liar. A day before his jury, with loads of work still unfinished he came back and gifted me with a hand bag that he had been making for me all this while. It was really beautiful, made of white and orange leather with a perfect K , also made of leather, on the buckle. I dont know how his jury went but he was very happy.