I’m giving the warning now that this post will contain PDA and Mushball level information. So, I’ll give you a second to drop out, Dear Reader.
Okay… still here? Well, let’s get on with it.
At 2pm on July 19, 2010, I was in a room in the Forsyth County Hall of Justice with my now-ex-wife, awaiting the judgment that would make the “ex” legal. We sat in a room laughing and talking whilst all the folks around us were throwing shade and daggered glances at each other. The judge called us up, we figured where we were to stand, answered the questions posed to us, agreed to the uncoupling and was granted a divorce. I joked to the Ex that it was a quicker ceremony to get divorced than it was to get married. The place laughed. At 2:19, I was standing in the parking lot of the HOJ parking deck saying bye to the Ex. At 2:23, I was sitting at Krankie’s Coffee in front of The BCPF.
Now, let’s get something clear. The Ex and I had been separated for 2 years leading up to that point, so it wasn’t like I was jumping out of one thing and into another.
The BCPF and I had been “friends” for a while. We met earlier that year at Finnigan’s Wake on a Tuesday when I was Quizmaster for Finnigan’s pub quiz. She was just getting out of her own personal disaster and we just started talking. We only saw each other on Tuesdays for a while and then we friended each other on Facebook. We got to where we had a standing “date” to chat at 11:10pm every night. We would talk until the wee hours of the morning.
Every once in a while we’d have an opportunity to “hang out” when she was off of work. We grew close. I made no bones about wanting to go out on a date with her. It turns out that we were actually going to attend a show together on July 21 (so you can guess what that post is going to be about), which was The Cowboy Junkies in Charlotte. She had agreed to meet with me at Krankies after the divorce finalization in case I needed a friend.
We sat across from each other and after a brief discussion about the previous events we just started our normal chatting. We talked about the upcoming show that we were going to attend together. We talked life stuff. We talked “us.”
I reached across the table and took her hand. There probably weren’t literal sparks but it felt like there were. I know the synapses popped extra hard in my head and I nearly passed out. I can’t tell you, Dear Reader, how much I had wanted to do this. I apologized and she indicated that she didn’t mind it. She didn’t let go. I certainly didn’t let go.
We sat there like that for hours, it seemed. I told her that I loved her. I also assured her that it was okay if she didn’t reciprocate. I also told her that there was no pressure for us to be together. It was okay if all we ever were were friends, I just needed her in my life. I meant it. I would have been gravely disappointed but I just needed her in my life. She listened. She smiled. We agreed we were looking forward to going to our show.
We had actually been to Charlotte together before this as she attended “Witches Night Off” a charity ball featuring cast members of the musical Wicked. That truly was friends going to something together.
But, we were going to a concert this time. We talked about me picking her up from her mother’s house. Then I “warned” her, I had written her a song. Yeah. We weren’t dating. We were “friends.” I wrote her a song. It pretty much laid out everything I had to say. She didn’t hear it until two days later but I had let the cat out of the bag. But, all of this, I did and said whilst holding her hand for the first time.
I will tell you now, I’ve never stopped holding her hand, since. I haven’t wanted to stop. I don’t want to stop. This was the “precursor” to our string of anniversaries that I throw at you every year. It was the catalyst; the harbinger of things to come. We take this one seriously, too, but this was a huge first step. I also haven’t stopped telling her that I love her and I certainly hope that she’s not felt anything but more and more love from me as time goes on.
So, happy holding hands anniversary to you, my love. I love you, Stephanie. More and more every day.
Sorry for being such a mushball, Dear Reader. And, here’s the song!
Until tomorrow, same blog channel…
“I think I’ve fallen. It’s a long way down without a net. Don’t let me hit the ground. I feel I’m crawling. I think I’m falling.” – “Fallen” (Beeman)