Today is our Makeoutaversary. An important -aversary because, even though we knew we liked one another before that, afterwards we were all, "Whoa...I think I REALLY like you." Which neither of us was necessarily expecting. At least not to that degree.
I was going to go through the whole embarrassing story, like I do, but decided not to.
Because sometimes I'm depressed and full of self-pity and ridiculousness. And then I write about it* to The Foliage, and go on and on about how I'm feeling and why. And then he says things, like, "Ummm...I know. Do you think I haven't been with you for 3 years? Because I have." And other things that are none of your business. He's pretty much the only person outside of my family who has ever talked with me about my depression and made me feel like, "Oohhh you really DO get it...and still ferreal love me and aren't just saying that!"
Which, you know, kind of rules.
Happy mackin'-on-you-versary, [TOE]!
*When I have something important to say, I write it. I forget too many things when I'm talking, and also eye contact distracts the hell out of me. So nearly every really pivotal discussion in our relationship has been documented. Which is cool and weird.