Like true hopeless romantics, Gary and I both completely forgot the anniversary of our first date last month. When we realized it, we laughed about it, made fun of ourselves, and Gary said, “Well, did we at least go out to dinner that day?” We counted back the days and discovered that yes, actually, we had gone out that day, not recognizing the significance of the day at the time but accidentally celebrating it anyway. That counts, right?
The day marked six years since that first date bringing the two of us together. If you let Gary tell the story, I practically roughed him up like a pro wrestler to get our first kiss, while he demurely and daintily tried to fight off my hungry advances! That is, of course, not exactly how it happened, but each time he recounts our first kiss, I get more and more aggressive, as well as more and more intoxicated, and the story gets funnier and funnier.
I remember thinking even then, on that first date, that Gary was wonderfully different from other guys I had dated. He wasn’t concerned at all with what other people thought of him, and he was 100% honest. Gary had no time for putting on airs, pretending to be someone he wasn’t, or being anything or anyone but himself. Not one bit of that has changed, and for that I am grateful.
Six years later, we have been through a lot, but some things never change, and I am glad. Gary is still funny, loving, sincere, and now my best friend.
And I still have to hear about how I supposedly pinned him to the wall like a prizefighter and shamelessly stole that first kiss. That is not how I remember it, but in honor of our anniversary, I will let him tell the story any way he likes it.