The Day We Met

The Day We Met:

Me: “I wasn’t looking for you, exactly.  I mean, I knew I needed one, sometime.  But it wasn’t immediate, you know?  I thought I was fine.”

You: “Yeah, I know.  You looked fine.  I was sitting there kind of awkwardly, and she just walks up.”

Me: “Well, I sort of slunk up.”

You: “Slunk?  You slunk? (chuckles) She slunk.”

Me: “Shut up!  I didn’t know if you belonged to anyone.  You looked sort of lonely.”

You: “Maybe I was just waiting.”

Me: “Either way, I wasn’t sure, so I hesitated, looked around for a sign.”

You: “There wasn’t one.  Whoever is in charge of signs isn’t very consistent.”

Me: “Let’s get to the point:  I grabbed him.  I snatched him up.”

You: “She did.  And made off like a bandit.”

Me: “I felt like such a fool, walking all of those blocks with you, not even knowing if I could really have you yet.”

You: “I know.  And you were still in your work clothes.”

Me: (laughing) “Yeah.  I was wearing, like, a dress and a blazer and heels.”

You: “People were staring.”

Me: “Do you remember what I said to you as we walked?”

You: “You said … let me see … you said, ‘Don’t worry, I’m a reader.  We’ll be happy.’  Just like that.”

Me: “That’s it.  And then we went upstairs and I set you up in my bedroom.”

You: “She had sort of a purple color scheme going on in there, which concerned me at first.”

Me: “That’s not entirely my fault.  When you’re patching together a life for yourself you take what you can get.  The duvet my mom sent was purple, so I went with it.”

You: “You have to admit, too much purple is cause for concern, regardless of origin.”

Me: “It was one duvet and a set of pillowcases!  Nothing else was purple!”

You: “Well anyway, that’s kind of the story.  She had a lot of books, which made me happy.”

Me: “Like I said.”

You: “Yeah.”

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