About 13 months and 10 days ago, I met a boy online. He was cute and witty and smart. He lived in a part of town I love. He worked in a creative industry. He made me laugh. He enjoyed running. He liked U2.
But he was leaving town on vacation and didn’t want to meet me in person until he came back.
So I waited. For five and a half weeks.
We emailed each other daily, and the anticipation of seeing him face-to-face was like nothing I’d ever experienced. Those last several days were complete torture. But there was a part of me that was terrified of our first encounter—what if we didn’t get along? What if he had some big weird mole on his ear with hair growing out of it? What if he wore floodpants and t-shirts with tigers on them?
I had to work hard to keep myself in check as I got ready for the big night.
We agreed to meet for fondue at The Melting Pot. As usual, I was running a smidge late, so I called to tell him I was almost to the parking garage. As the phone rang on my end, I watched a guy on the sidewalk answer his.
“I think I can see you,” I said. “Turn around and look at the Prius behind you.”
Suddenly everything went into slow motion. He turned to look over his shoulder, his black coat framing his face, and all I could see was a dimple cupping the side of his smile. My stomach did a triple axle. He was hot.
I couldn’t park the car fast enough.
We got inside and when our waiter jokingly said, “First date?” Mr. Wonderful replied with, “No, we’ve been married five years.”
I couldn’t help but wonder if someday that would be true…
After dinner, we didn’t kiss goodnight. But he teased me the next day on IM, telling me he knew I wanted to. He could just tell.
Later that week, he came to my house to make dinner and dessert. Chicken Marsala and chocolate soufflé. If the incredible meal was a ploy to get that kiss, it worked. Halfway through showing me his vacation pictures, he pulled me into his tractor beam and convinced me to make out with him for the next several hours.
I knew after that, I was toast.
I worked hard over the next seven months, biting my tongue every time he did something cute. Every time he looked at me with those sleepy eyes. Or grabbed my hand and kissed it while he was driving. I bit my tongue, because all I wanted to do was yell, “I LOVE YOU!!”, and I knew that might frighten the pants off him. (Not that I mind him being sans pants…)
In May, I crumbled. And he followed.
Today marks our one-year anniversary. It’s not just a measure of the days we’ve spent together, but a benchmark for one of the happiest years of my life.
This wonderful guy has made me smile more; indulge in the pleasures of wine and food and adventure more; try things I might not have tried without him (like riding a motorcycle and eating inari). He has been a patient teacher and laid-back travel companion. An amazing boyfriend but also a true friend.
After 365 days of having him in my life, I cannot come to any conclusion other than this: I am the luckiest girl in the world.
Happy 1-year, sweetpea.