Here's a thing I've never said

I love the way we met.

We talked a lot about firsts, our many first dates, what preceeded what and what sealed it. How it didn't happen, and how much it did.

Maybe there is discomfort in remembering our meeting. I remember it more, remember feeling something you tell me wasn't there. Maybe what I'm calling discomfort is embarassment. But it was a nice little story, the hot toddy story, one with an unexpected innocence.

So often, I think everything is foreshadowing everything else, a set-up or a sign. I tried to extract you from our meeting, make you real. But I kept failing. I planted it with our friend. I set another out to find you online. I tried to make group plans, but you were busy. Eventually, I gave up. Maybe we met online, half a year later, through a personal ad. But it's not what I remember, it's only where I remember posing the question.

We talk about that, the personal ad, maybe because it's where the idea of us originated for you. For me, the idea of us didn't start as anything close to what we became. But it started so nicely, not with promise but with an unexpected want. Maybe I never gave up on that. Maybe you'd say it's because it was just me there anyways.