Twelve years ago, on February 24th, 2005, I met a man.
He and I had been exchanging emails and text and instant messages for almost 2 months. Everyday, we’d speak for so long into the night that he could metaphorically tuck me in as I drifted off to sleep. The intensity of our online courtship was so profound that we’d reached the point where we were already planning our future life together. We’d imagine Sunday mornings, where we’d cook brunch together. The sun would stream through the window, over the herbs growing on the windowsill as I scrambled up some eggs and he would make make the toast. We strategized how we’d raise our kids with parents of two different faiths. We’d adventure the globe together, traversing a list of countries so long, I’ve forgotten the names of all of them.
All the plans we’d made. The life we imagined building for ourselves.
And all we had to do was meet.
Can you imagine the anticipation as the day approached? Anxiety wound its way through my veins like a snake. The whole day I fidgeted, my fingertips both numb and clammy, my feet wiggling uncontrollably. Thoughts zig-zagged up and down and through my mind, racing at the speed of light.
“Is this right for us?”
“What if we don’t have chemistry?”
“What if this was all in our heads?”
“Will we actually be right together?”
“What if we don’t actually like each other in real life?”
The reality of the situation was that, we had a meeting of the minds, with a mutually deep emotional and mental connection, but we had no idea whether our emotional chemistry would translate to the physical plane. All this hoping, wanting, fantasizing and planning would be for nothing if there was no spark.
And I’d be broken.
February 24th, we’d know for sure.
I’ll tell you the story of our first date in another post. I just wanted to share a tidbit to celebrate the anniversary of that day twelve years ago. Stay tuned for the next post.
Rock on, Lovecats!