roses

Music: “Yes & No,” by Venus Hum (I love this song and the band’s name – though at the moment I can’t recall what a venous hum upon auscultation of a patient indicates)
TV: The local news anchorwoman seems to be wearing something between a dominatrix outfit and a marching band uniform.

The past two weeks have been rather busy. I won’t be able to fit everything in one entry.

August 2, 2005

I walked into Jake’s Sports Café with a stomach filled with freshly-eaten butterflies. The bar was packed with college students, laughter, and the smell of beer. Somewhere underneath the merriment and hidden within the swarm of people was the man I was there to meet.

Initially, I met Chris online in a chatroom (I now realize just how miraculous this chance meeting was considering his internet connection at the time – but perhaps something more than chance was at work). I remember him signing into the local chat. I looked at his profile and because of his attractive picture; I opened up a window to send an instant message to him. After a moment I closed it, deciding that he would behave like most of the extremely attractive people I attempted to engage in conversation and refuse to deign to even respond. But to my amazement, he messaged me and made the first move. Chat was constantly interrupted by his terrible internet connection, so he left me a phone number to call him.

It took two weeks before I worked up the courage to call him. He was so very attractive, but there was that tricky complication caused by my phobia of phoning people I have not met in person. It might take me thirty minutes to work up the nerve to order pizza for delivery. Usually, I have to have the conversation completely mapped out beforehand and unexpected questions often result in verbal diarrhea or the syntax of third-grader.

Nevertheless, there I was, standing just inside the front door searching frantically for my date and wondering all of those things that come along with internet dating. I found him towards the middle of the bar. He was even hotter than his profile picture suggested, a pleasant, but perhaps slightly intimidating surprise.

He was not alone. I might be terrified of speaking to strangers on the phone, but Chris is surprisingly shy in person. His friend, Vivian, was there to stave off any panic attacks he might have encountered meeting me. Who knows what kind of creep I could have turned out to be?

Fortunately, I turned out to not be creepy. He invited me over to his house under the adamant stipulation that sleeping together was out-of-the-question. I am not that kind of boy, so that was never an issue. He gave me the tour of his two-bedroom duplex, then wooed me with a flawless performance of Queen’s “Bohemian Rhapsody” on piano and a glass of his homemade wine. Afterwards, his warm, dark eyes locked with mine.

“Would you do me a favor?” he asked.
“Sure. What’s that?”
“Would you kiss me?”

I leaned in and one of those fairy-tale-comatose-princess-waking kisses ensued. Had I known that was going to happen, I would have set my wine glass down on the piano and not shared my drink with carpet. At that point, I knew something special was in the making. In spite of his stipulation, I did in fact sleep with him – but in the innocent manner that follows staying up late in conversation and involves cuddling and clothing.

I recall the moment before falling asleep: I felt safe and completed, while wrapped securely in his arms.

August 2, 2006

One year later and our relationship has since blossomed. I moved in with him. We have a dog together. Today we decided to purchase furniture together. I hear that we are an absolute cliché, which makes me smile inside. People would be plagued with nausea if they really knew how often we say “I love you.”

Unfortunately, I could not spend our one-year anniversary in his company. He took me to the airport that morning so that I could fly to Ann Arbor, MI, as my chapter’s official delegate to the national meeting for Phi Delta Chi, a professional (and co-ed) pharmacy fraternity. In spite of my absence, I had a surprise planned for him: four-dozen petite roses arrived at his doorstep shortly after I arrived in Detroit. The card read:

I cannot believe that we have been together for a year. Thank you for making the past year so special. I love you with all of my heart,

Brandon

I’ll try and put up pictures tomorrow.