On those moments.
After elk sliders and steak frites at Union, we made our way down Queen Street West arm in arm, slipping on icy patches as we went. My mind held onto the image of his broad smile in the dimly lit restaurant. We were going to a bar, but we didn't know which one or where. We were going somewhere and it didn't really matter where. We crossed intersection after intersection, a little bit lost in the night and a little bit lost in ourselves. We made it past Spadina and then we found ourselves in front of the Rivoli.
He'd never been, so we went in, found a table, grabbed some drinks. And when the bar became free, we went to sit closer to the music and the man who made my amaretto sours. My knees between his, our faces inches apart and we told stories and laughed and sipped our drinks. It was our monthary, our one month, and yet it felt like we'd been here forever.
When his Mill Street Organic was no longer delicious and I had to stop in order to drive, he said, "Let's call it a night." and we paid our bill and left, walking the opposite direction on Queen Street West, but this time buzzing. I told him about my "Hello"s to strangers and proved it by calling out "Hello!" every so often, waiting and watching for the passers-by' reactions. Most did nothing, but some responded.
And we finally made our way back to my car and climbed inside, happy and full, but content to be heading home. When I pulled onto Jameson, he asked what triggered those thoughts and I told him what. He said he felt a little naive and a littler inferior and I told him not to because he was all I wanted. "Remember when I said I no longer need to sleep with anyone else?"
"Yeah," he said, "I probably won't forget that you said that."
And after we left my place and headed to his, I said, "You don't know how hard it was for me to tell you that, when I stood in the shower with you and aged you in my mind, I could see you in fifty years from now and I still wanted to be with you."
"Why is that embarrassing or difficult?" he asked.
"Because it's a big statement," I said.
"Isn't that where this is going?" he said. "When we had the whole H incident, I told you that I would have bounced if I didn't think this was it."
And my heart stopped for a moment and my voice caught in my throat because he was talking about long-term us, about the Rosa and Alex of the future, about everything I've thought about for so long, but never voiced. And I smiled to myself because I now knew he felt the same. It's us. It's going to be us in the end and it feels oh-so-right.
--
"And last night, your reaction was, to me, the equivalent of, "Well, duh. That's where this is going." And I was kinda like, "Wait, what?" How does one say that so nonchalantly?"
it's easy to when it's so obvious?
After a month of dating, it's -obvious-?
i guess you don't see it?
I do, but... How do you know that this is... How do you know that this is long term/marriage-worthy? [pause] Maybe that's not a fair question to ask since nobody ever knows for certain.
i -know- it's long term/marriage worthy. i just can't fully articulate why.
I know it because it fell into place so easily. It just worked/works. It's not forced; it's not difficult; it's not stressful (95% of the time?). I know it because I feel differently about you than anyone else I dated. Because so many aspects of us "just work". I never believed the cliche that "you just know" when you find the right person. And then... I found you. And I did "just know". I know it because, unlike other people I dated, I -can- see you being mine and being the father of my kids. I dunno... It sounds kinda sappy, but that's how I feel. But at the same time, knowing it... scares me.
kind of like, knowing puts a pressure on us to make sure it works / not mess it up?
Yeah, exactly. And every time something starts to go amiss, a feeling of panic. And also, if we already know now, then we kind of reached the ending at the very beginning. Like, where's the journey, the story, the figuring it out together?
there's a difference between knowing the path and walking the path! (yessssss, matrix reference)
--
"I'm happy I found you."
"We found each other."
He'd never been, so we went in, found a table, grabbed some drinks. And when the bar became free, we went to sit closer to the music and the man who made my amaretto sours. My knees between his, our faces inches apart and we told stories and laughed and sipped our drinks. It was our monthary, our one month, and yet it felt like we'd been here forever.
When his Mill Street Organic was no longer delicious and I had to stop in order to drive, he said, "Let's call it a night." and we paid our bill and left, walking the opposite direction on Queen Street West, but this time buzzing. I told him about my "Hello"s to strangers and proved it by calling out "Hello!" every so often, waiting and watching for the passers-by' reactions. Most did nothing, but some responded.
And we finally made our way back to my car and climbed inside, happy and full, but content to be heading home. When I pulled onto Jameson, he asked what triggered those thoughts and I told him what. He said he felt a little naive and a littler inferior and I told him not to because he was all I wanted. "Remember when I said I no longer need to sleep with anyone else?"
"Yeah," he said, "I probably won't forget that you said that."
And after we left my place and headed to his, I said, "You don't know how hard it was for me to tell you that, when I stood in the shower with you and aged you in my mind, I could see you in fifty years from now and I still wanted to be with you."
"Why is that embarrassing or difficult?" he asked.
"Because it's a big statement," I said.
"Isn't that where this is going?" he said. "When we had the whole H incident, I told you that I would have bounced if I didn't think this was it."
And my heart stopped for a moment and my voice caught in my throat because he was talking about long-term us, about the Rosa and Alex of the future, about everything I've thought about for so long, but never voiced. And I smiled to myself because I now knew he felt the same. It's us. It's going to be us in the end and it feels oh-so-right.
--
"And last night, your reaction was, to me, the equivalent of, "Well, duh. That's where this is going." And I was kinda like, "Wait, what?" How does one say that so nonchalantly?"
it's easy to when it's so obvious?
After a month of dating, it's -obvious-?
i guess you don't see it?
I do, but... How do you know that this is... How do you know that this is long term/marriage-worthy? [pause] Maybe that's not a fair question to ask since nobody ever knows for certain.
i -know- it's long term/marriage worthy. i just can't fully articulate why.
I know it because it fell into place so easily. It just worked/works. It's not forced; it's not difficult; it's not stressful (95% of the time?). I know it because I feel differently about you than anyone else I dated. Because so many aspects of us "just work". I never believed the cliche that "you just know" when you find the right person. And then... I found you. And I did "just know". I know it because, unlike other people I dated, I -can- see you being mine and being the father of my kids. I dunno... It sounds kinda sappy, but that's how I feel. But at the same time, knowing it... scares me.
kind of like, knowing puts a pressure on us to make sure it works / not mess it up?
Yeah, exactly. And every time something starts to go amiss, a feeling of panic. And also, if we already know now, then we kind of reached the ending at the very beginning. Like, where's the journey, the story, the figuring it out together?
there's a difference between knowing the path and walking the path! (yessssss, matrix reference)
--
"I'm happy I found you."
"We found each other."