Lucky 13

It was 13 years ago today that I first heard a tinge of panic in Dys’s voice.  As she called me a fucking liar.

Well, I wasn’t lying!

It was a Friday.  I didn’t have grad school classes that day.  I had a graduate internship that I usually worked on Fridays, but on that day I planned to skip it.  I had Plans.

After knowing each other for three years, exchanging semi-surreptitious letters for a year, and about two months after dumping our respective significant others and beginning a torrid internet LDR, that Friday evening Dys was hopping a plane to Richmond for a week with yours truly.  The gods, of course, saw this as a chance to fuck with us, so they opened the skies to a long day of snow and ice in a city ill-equipped to deal with them.

I was going to be an (excitedly) nervous wreck all day under the best of circumstances.  As it was, I stayed glued to The Weather Channel and paced back and forth all day like an expectant father having a nic-fit.  It was late in the afternoon that I decided that I had to call her.

“They just closed the airport.”

Silence for a second.  Then that panicked voice.

“You are a fucking liar.”

“I wish I was.  They’re going to try to clean it off but at the moment the airport is closed.”  I pondered buying a shovel, if one was available in town.  Or better yet just clearing off the runway with my bare fucking hands.  At that point, it might have been a good outlet for all that nervous energy.

“Fuck it,” she said, “I’m going to the airport until they make me leave.”

That made me feel hopeful in an odd way.  “Okay,” I said, “call me when you know something.”

It’s a good thing my apartment didn’t have carpeting.  If it had before, it wouldn’t have afterward.  The toll on my shoe soles was bad enough.

Ring.

“They’re boarding.  We should be on the ground in an hour and a half.  I love you.”

“I’ll be there.  I love you!”

I showered (I had earlier, but I’d worked up quite the nervous sweat since then), I picked out the exact right clothes for our first meeting (or as exact as I owned), and I left a good 45 minutes earlier than I had to.  It was time to nervously pace in a whole new place.

As I said, Richmond was rather ill-equipped to deal with snowstorms.  I actually had a little trouble getting to the airport, since my ’83 T-bird was similarly ill-equipped.  I had some problems getting started from a red light on a hill.  Then in an attempt to avoid similar problems, I got myself minorly lost.  I still got there ridiculously early and proceeded to pace, watching the news on the monitors and the “Arrivals” screen like a starved leopard.

They landed.  She was, of course, one of the last goddamned people off the plane. Insert joke here, huh?  Anyway, I saw her, she looked like every picture she’d ever sent me and what’s more, she was beaming this ridiculously beautiful smile.  At me. I have no idea what I looked like grinning back at her, but my guess is that “suave” and all synonyms thereof are at the bottom of the list.  Even all my carefully-planned overblown-romantic gestures about greeting her for the first time flew out the window.  I just hugged her and took in the smell of her perfume and kissed her and tasted that damned green-apple lip balm that I wish to HELL Bath & Body Works still made and the next half-hour or so gets a little hazy, honestly.

The hour or two or five after that are crystal clear, though, thank you very much.  Excuse me for a moment…

…aah.  Ok, I’m back.

We laid in bed yesterday morning talking about how surreal the experience was…waking up together that next morning after all that time of hoping and dreaming and waiting and wanting and suddenly that ethereal person was real, and right next to you.

That was a long time ago, and as we joked, our accents are now pretty similar whereas that day they were comically different.  As with just about any couple, I guess, there have been a few Eternal Sunshine moments in the thirteen years since that moment.  But that’s one day in my life that I hope never fades from my memory.

Happy anniversary, babe.  I love ya.

Advertisements

8 Responses

  1. I’m having a warm fuzzy conniption over here. Happy anniversary, you guys!!!!

    Danke, ma’am. And BTW, your disc is not yet in the mail, but it’s burned. 😀

  2. Happy anniversary!!!! That is a very sweet story, I may insist on Ian reading it, as I highly doubt he remembers the first time we met! 😛

    Woo, Suzy’s back! Missed ya, lady!

    Hopefully Ian was much less of a nervous wreck when you first met. Had Dys not already been hoodwinked by my smooth ‘net manners I’m sure she would have gotten a clue and run for the hills.

  3. Awwww.

    (I laughed at the “suave” sentence.)

    So did she. She read it for the first time that evening sitting beside me on the couch. She said “Nervous probably describes it.” I said, “You didn’t look nervous!” and she replied, “Yeah, but I’d had those glasses of wine…”

  4. Eeeewwwwww!!!! Mooooooshy love stuff!!!! Hee!

    Happy Anniversary to you both! 😉

    Is this a kissing book?

    😉

  5. Thirteen…super cool!

    That airport is still better than Norfolk’s.

    I’ll take your word for that one. It’s easy to believe, though.

  6. I had that same experience… the surreal slo-mo and clarity of every single moment, the first kiss, feeling and smell. I still think about it and him, which I guess makes me pathetic. I wish the ending was the same as yours.

    As we’ve briefly noted from time to time, there were always potentials of different endings for us, too. LDRs are brutal, marriage and kids are hard, life is hard. We’re smart enough to recognize that we’ve been lucky from time to time, and not just in that first meeting.

    I hope it’s never pathetic to remember that first intoxicating hit of romance. And I hope your next experience has your dream ending.

  7. I love love! We just celebrated 13 years (of the first time we met) two weeks ago.
    Happy Anniversary!

    Well then, since I can’t remember if I said so in your comments or not, happy belated anniversary to you as well!

  8. I CRACKED UP at your reply to Heather’s comment. Murdered by pirates is good.

    I think one of my favorite parts of the whole movie is Peter Falk’s voiceover Wallace Shawn’s lines. “Did you hear that, Highness? Those are the shrieking eels!”

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: