Pluviophile: (n.) lover of rain

For years and years I have tried to fit into a society that shuns the “type of person” I am.  I fear for my safety at times, praying that no one will learn the truth about me.  Will my friends and family still love me?  Will my cat ever look at me the same when I finally say the words out loud?  Sink or swim, it’s time to come clean.  If you think this is the part where I mention my sexuality, that ship sailed years ago and I still have friends, family, and my cat still loves me… most of the time.  No, this is a deeper, more tragic confession.  I… am… a… pluviophile.  *scrunches face and hangs head in embarrassment*

If you are still reading, that means I must not have offended your beliefs as much as I feared I might.  So many people look at me crazy when I mention how much I love the rain.  All the time.  I don’t just love it while I am snuggled on the couch reading or watching television.  My love of rain is constant.  The sound of rain gives me a surge of energy and happiness.  The way most people feel when the weather is warm and sunny is how I feel when it is dark, cold, and dreary.  I am not depressed.  Depressed people don’t become joyous and jubilant at the mere thought of rain.  Or do they?  I don’t know.  But I battled depression in high school (largely due to my hiding out in the closet) and I am telling you this is not it.  I simply love the rain!

Soon enough, being an out and proud pluviophile will be the trendy, hipster thing.  It will be a bittersweet day.  I will see so many more smiling faces with whom I can share a special part of my life with.  We will have parades, flags, and we could probably insert ourselves into the online dating market with a new app for rain lovers by rain lovers.  On the flip side, not everyone will be an authentic and genuine pluviophile.  There will inevitably be false prophets sneaking among us.  Fakers gonna fake, fake, fake, fake, fake, but let me give you all one solid piece of advice:  if Jessie Spano can’t convince Zack Morris that “she’s so excited,” then you have no chance in hell of convincing me.  Move along to the next trend.  Buh-bye.

One of the reasons I get so excited about rain is because of how immediately peaceful I feel when it begins.  The sound of the water bouncing on the driveway or landing on the rooftop is so soothing.  There is something extra magical when hearing the rain land on leaves on a tree.  I am still.  Listening to the rain provides the benefits of a cocktail without the calories or the clarity of a psychiatry session without the bill.  I want it to rain all of the time.  It could drizzle or be a torrential downpour and I would be overwhelmed with happiness and an inner calm.

The rain is an agent of nostalgia.  All the way back to elementary school, I loved when recess was held indoors due to the weather conditions (mainly because I am about a degree and a half hotter than most people and I do not sweat so I would overheat).  We would play Oregon Trail on our computers, card games like War and Slap, board games and pick up sticks, and we would have fun with Mad Libs.  It was even more amazing to go home after school and it still be raining because I would read by the window or watch TBS (which was always Saved By The Bell and Full House during that time).  Who doesn’t love some childhood nostalgia?

Rain is as important to me as love is to Noah and Allie in The Notebook.  I will totally love rain when it gets Alzheimer’s and hold its hand as we die together in the most romantic way possible.  I love rain like Kanye loves Kanye.  You might even wager my love for rain compares with the friendship between Meredith Grey and Cristina Yang in Grey’s Anatomy: rain is totally “my person.”  I’ll even take a note from Cady Heron in Mean Girls and say that rain is just so “grool.”  And sometimes, just sometimes, when the rain starts to slow down I open my door sobbing, and like Jack Twist to Ennis Del Mar in Brokeback Mountain I cry, “I wish I knew how to quit you!”  Rain got me like: