On our second date, we went to see Wedding Crashers at a
movie theater near her house.
ALL I could think about during that movie was how badly I
wanted her to touch me. To put her hand on mine. To sit closer. To “accidentally” brush my bare knee with the
back of her hand. ANYTHING.
After the movie, we strolled around the outdoor mall that
the theater was in. We got coffee from
Starbucks and sat outside on a bench for a while. It was dark, and it was
reasonably empty since it was so late.
I wanted her to kiss me so badly. I tried to create little opportunities, but
she never took them.
We drove back to her house and she invited me in. It was LATE, but I agreed—hoping maybe NOW
she’d get it.
I left and headed home.
I was still happy—but also confused. It sure SEEMED like she was interested in
me. It SEEMED like we were having a
great time together. Did she just want
to be friends? Was she not attracted to
I was stumped.
Yes, I know I could have kissed HER, but I wanted her to
make the first move. I am very much the
romantic who wants to be swept off her feet.
At the time, I didn’t have it in me to do the sweeping. I’d been through enough, and had plenty of
baggage. It was my turn to be courted, damnit.
She asked me on a third date. We went out for dinner and then to a local
lesbian bar. We had rum & cokes in
front of us and had been making quiet conversation. She was staring at my legs. Finally, she put her hand on my thigh and I
just about fell off my barstool.
Next thing I knew, she had leaned close and whispered, “Is
it okay if I kiss you now?”
She kissed me.
I melted into that barstool.
The rest is history.
We moved in together 9 months later in April and planted our
first meager vegetable garden in our backyard.
We got Twix in May.
She proposed to me in December of 2006 at a Starbucks.
We were married legally in July of 2008—just the two of us
in a Van Nuys strip mall.
We had the “big to-do” wedding in October of 2009.
With any luck, we’ll add mommyhood to our history in 2014.
Fingers way, way, crossed.