“We were in space doing work. Then you declared you knew what you had to do! You were going to be a Nature Technician. Then your hair went straight. And that’s what I dreamt about last night.”
– Nicolas, the mountain to my ocean, my boyfriend and roommate.
Today is our anniversary. Three years ago he invited me over to make pizza. I remember the walk from my house to his. I wore my favorite jean jacket. I felt so breathless and bright walking up to his front door. Did I knock? Too preoccupied trying to remember how people hug. What if we shake hands? I might break in the giddy awkwardness.
Suddenly we were two strangers standing in an apartment. He’s tall. The kind of tall that people point out and then say ‘watch your head!’ I’m short. The kind of short that people point out when I sit and my feet don’t touch the ground.
We went for it. We first date hugged. Limbs overlapping and unwinding in a polite quickness.
We moved to the kitchen and I noticed the refrigerator magnets. An array of insects. Like something I would buy from the gift shop on my way out of a museum. I glowed soft-pink. Buzzing like the onset of a sugar rush. I knew two things:
1. Romantic potential aside, I wanted to be his friend.
2. I also can’t deny the giddy feeling. Like I’m 10 years old again and suddenly bearing a delicious secret. Shy and bursting. Like the girl who used to whisper into her palm: I have a crush.