The year was 2000. I was new to the internet scene, particularly AOL and all of its features, including Love@AOL. This was before they started charging for it, before they turned it into an actual dating service. At the time, it was simply personals.
Out of boredom one night, B and I decided to make profiles, just to see if anyone was out there that deserved a little bit of our attention. I received a few responses, made a few dates, and prepared myself for meeting my ‘online’ friends face-to-face.
One of the guys turned out to be an ok person, but he was looking for something completely physical. I had just gotten out of one of those ‘relationships’ and was not ready to start another one any time soon. Another one of the guys took me out to dinner at Subway and then to play mini golf. He didn’t get another date, although we did make out on the beach, mostly because I was horny and he was sort of cute.
Then, there was him. From the first night of chatting, he stood out as someone who I could see myself hanging out with, maybe dating. His level of vocabulary was high above any of the usual suspects and his sense of humor as twisted as mine. We decided to meet, to watch the sunset from his sailboat, and maybe grab a bite to eat afterwards. Dinner was not meant to be that night.
From the moment we shook hands, there was a spark, pure electricity jumping back and forth between us. It was exciting and scary, but I didn’t turn back. In fact, I spent the entire night on the pointy end of that boat with him. We watched the sunset, the moon rise, the stars come out. We talked about everything and nothing, each of us finishing each other’s thoughts, taking a break only to look at the clouds and the islands they made in the sky.
It rained. It poured, actually. We moved to the cabin of the boat, where the talking, the laughter, the understanding, continued. This lasted until I realized that I had far exceeded the time I had intended to spend there with him. I had work the next morning. I explained this to him and he offered to walk me to my car. He had work, too, except his was 500 miles away, and he would be gone for two weeks.
We said good-bye. And we hugged. We said good-bye again. And we kissed. And we kissed some more. We kissed until the sky turned from black to pink, at which point the rain started again. From pink to orange, our good-byes would not be deterred.
I wrote my number on the only paper available, a $20 bill from his wallet. He promised to call. I promised to still be single when he came home.
I drove away wondering when, not if, I would get the first phone call. This was something. Something strange and new and wonderful and different and scary and amazing.
He called three times during the two weeks he was gone. We went to lunch the first day he was home. And giving him that first of many ‘welcome home’ hugs, I knew that he was no ordinary guy, that this would be no ordinary relationship.
Eight years later, we are married with two cats. He is truly my best friend in every way those two words can be conveyed. The $20 bill is framed on our bedroom wall, with ‘I have fallen in love with you. It is as simple and as complicated as that’ written above it. That pretty much sums it up.