The One, One Year Later
One year ago on this day, July 17, I met my one true love. I could write about how much I love him (more than anything) and how great everything is (better than great). Instead I decided to write something other than a pile of cliché, maudlin sentences to that effect for our one-year anniversary. In doing so, I feel it expresses all of the mushy sentiment I want to avoid. Oh, the irony.
It hit me a few times recently. No, luckily not a car while flying around Berlin on my bicycle, but rather this odd and sickening sensation in my stomach, almost like my guts are opening up and the contents are free falling into a deep dark abyss. The same sort of feeling I have when undergoing a panic attack. But what triggered it this time?
Strangely enough, it was thinking about the love-filled year with Mr. Right and knowing that meeting the man of my dreams depended on one swipe of my finger. How wonderfully bizarre is the world we live in today, when I can honestly say I am thankful for the fact I took Tinder "seriously" that night back in July of 2016. I took my time, scrutinized his pictures, hoping I could find a true glimpse of the man behind the photos. Something in his studious look (he is bespectacled like me), something in his million-watt smile at the Oktoberfest table (which, as it turns out, he spent most of his life in Bavaria and his brother was in the group photo), something in his style (yes, even the Lederhosen got me); I was compelled to swipe right.
But often that is not enough. You swipe and receive no messages. As odd as it seems to say I am a "tradionalist" in this case, I usually wait for the interested gentlemen to write to me first. Sometimes the messages are disappointing, but what I received shortly after swiping was intriguing. Reacting to one of my pictures in which I am seen with a cigarette (I don't smoke anymore), he wrote "Rauchen ist voll uncool" (smoking is totally uncool), or something to that effect. Snarky, but true. I fired back with, "Ja, das stimmt. Aber leider sieht es sexy aus." (Yes, that's true. But unfortunately it looks sexy.) And that was it. We went back and forth from there. He was amazed I was American - we chatted in German - and there was no beating around the bush: we set up a time to meet. None of this weird game playing or overtly sexual talk. Humor, polite interest, coffee. Time flew by on our first date and from then on, we were a thing. And we still are.
To that I say, I love you. Here's to many more years together!
It hit me a few times recently. No, luckily not a car while flying around Berlin on my bicycle, but rather this odd and sickening sensation in my stomach, almost like my guts are opening up and the contents are free falling into a deep dark abyss. The same sort of feeling I have when undergoing a panic attack. But what triggered it this time?
Strangely enough, it was thinking about the love-filled year with Mr. Right and knowing that meeting the man of my dreams depended on one swipe of my finger. How wonderfully bizarre is the world we live in today, when I can honestly say I am thankful for the fact I took Tinder "seriously" that night back in July of 2016. I took my time, scrutinized his pictures, hoping I could find a true glimpse of the man behind the photos. Something in his studious look (he is bespectacled like me), something in his million-watt smile at the Oktoberfest table (which, as it turns out, he spent most of his life in Bavaria and his brother was in the group photo), something in his style (yes, even the Lederhosen got me); I was compelled to swipe right.
But often that is not enough. You swipe and receive no messages. As odd as it seems to say I am a "tradionalist" in this case, I usually wait for the interested gentlemen to write to me first. Sometimes the messages are disappointing, but what I received shortly after swiping was intriguing. Reacting to one of my pictures in which I am seen with a cigarette (I don't smoke anymore), he wrote "Rauchen ist voll uncool" (smoking is totally uncool), or something to that effect. Snarky, but true. I fired back with, "Ja, das stimmt. Aber leider sieht es sexy aus." (Yes, that's true. But unfortunately it looks sexy.) And that was it. We went back and forth from there. He was amazed I was American - we chatted in German - and there was no beating around the bush: we set up a time to meet. None of this weird game playing or overtly sexual talk. Humor, polite interest, coffee. Time flew by on our first date and from then on, we were a thing. And we still are.
To that I say, I love you. Here's to many more years together!
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