You meet somewhere ordinary; online, a friend’s birthday party or while browsing the sci-fi section at your favorite bookstore. It’s an ordinary Tuesday afternoon, or perhaps an ordinary Saturday night. The thing you will soon find out however is that this day, this moment, is anything but ordinary.
You stare at a picture of this person, or see them from across the room and suddenly feel your stomach is filled with just all of the
butterflies pterodactyls. You take a deep breath, gather your courage, and decide to say hello. You wait with baited breath for a reply, a clue as to whether they are maybe feeling they same way you are, and when they do, you melt.
You start talking about anything and everything; your shared love of breakfast food, baseball and ridiculously amazing Will Ferrell movies and your equally shared hate of rude people, fish and having to wait for the next installment of a fave book series to come out. You talk a bit more, and you realize absurdly quick that you like this person.
You really like this person.
They’re funny and charming and incredibly sweet. The conversation was effortless, as if you were talking to a friend, someone whom you’ve known for most of your life. You feel like a bit of an idiot because you’re more giddy than you want to admit about the mere fact that you met someone, someone who has finally made you feel excited again. You just met them, after all. But yet you still can’t help but wonder if something will happen. Your heart had been badly broken, but you begin to think that maybe, just maybe, it could be put back together again.
Something does happen eventually. You exchange numbers, a tangible promise that this thing, whatever it is, is a possibility. For the next few days, weeks, you stay up way too late texting back and forth, telling each other about your day, creating inside jokes and slowly but surely sharing more and more tidbits about one another. You go to work some mornings five blocks past groggy and your daily coffee intake takes a dramatic upsurge, but you don’t care. You’re running on adrenaline–an infatuistic adrenaline.
And then it happens.
You go out on a first date—and it’s perfect.
No, it’s not a five-course dinner on a penthouse balcony or a private dance in front of an orchestra. There’s nothing involving masquerade balls of five thousand dollar ball gowns. It’s just you and a person who makes you smile and laugh until your stomach hurts, wearing jeans and walking around, ordering takeout or going to a casual dinner eating pizza and drinking a couple of beers together.
And then there’s another date, and another. You begin to count the days until you can see each other again, anticipating the next time you hear their voice, see their smile and feel their hugs. You begin to really get to know them. You understand what they were like in college and learn that there are some things that make them laugh that aren’t that funny. But this fact makes you laugh all the more. You begin to notice little things like how when they’re nervous, they cross their arms and you like when they wear their favorite sweatshirt.
You’re surprised at how quickly someone can show up in your life like this, someone so incredibly sweet and funny and cute in a they-don’t-know-they’re-cute-but-totally-are kind of way. Suddenly you’re this person who walks around smiling while perusing the cereal aisle in grocery store or while taking out the trash. It’s annoyingly amazing.
You start to wonder if and when you’re actually going to fall in love.
And then it happens.
On some regular, uneventful day, you realize they’re your person. There’s no courageous act or ridiculous announcement or some kind of proclamation on the top of the Eiffel Tower. You’re just looking at them, in the car on the way to dinner or marathoning Friends. You get goosebumps and you’re nauseous and out of breath. You’re completely terrified because you’re not sure if they feel it too. It’s a big risk, this love thing. Putting yourself out there, opening your heart to possible rejection is scary.
But then one of you blurts it out.
“I love you.”
Sometimes it comes out as a question, sometimes it’s barely audible because they swallowed their own spit out of panic. It’s never smooth or sexy. In fact, it’s usually the opposite and someone more often than not immediately laughs, sometimes it’s both of you.
But it’s regular and unaffected and simple and genuine and based on nothing else other than your legitimate, steady, honest and true feelings. It makes all of the worry and heartache worth it. It’s an ordinary love and it happened to you.
It’s your modern day fairytale.