It felt like a fairytale.
I wasn’t really looking for anything other than someone to grab a drink with one evening after work. But he—as he put it when talking about me—just “checked all kinds of boxes,” per se. More than anyone else ever had.
Highly intelligent and witty with a contagious laugh and incredible sense of humor, and somehow altogether unintimidated that I could more than hold my own in conversation. Passionate about social justice with an ambitious long-term plan to make a real difference. Athletic and driven, with a work ethic that sounded like it might even rival my own. On the same page in terms of sexuality, fidelity, and commitment, more than I’d ever dared hope, and he made it quite clear that he was serious about me. “I’d like to drive down and take you out to dinner. It’s a date.”
We were both head over heels—probably to the point of nausea if you weren’t one of the two of us (although to be fair, my two partners-in-crime at work were absolutely ecstatic for me and couldn’t get enough of the details).
I had never FaceTimed before (the idea of it always seemed weird), but I obliged, and we spent five hours giggling and talking and pontificating that first virtual “date.” He always said he was excited to fall asleep so he could wake up and get to talk to me again. I was so intrigued by him that I texted him one morning and said:
“You know that point when you’ve just gotten into a good book, and you really need to sleep/accomplish other life things but it’s hard to put it down and you have all these questions about backstory and characters and stuff?”
D: “I know exactly what you mean. What book are you reading?”
“You.”
D: “I feel the exact same way.”
Now, I’m wondering how in the world we ended up where we are. Which, unfortunately, seems like it may very likely be nowhere.