It had actually happened. Someone had captured my heart in an instant. But that certainly didn't mean we were about to get married. I was still me, and so the questions began: What was his take on politics and God and sushi and Sinatra and 401Ks? I kept waiting for him to provide an answer that would rule him out. But that didn’t happen. It wasn't that we always agreed—far from it—but I never heard a single answer from Colin that I couldn’t learn to live with.
We waded into official boyfriend-girlfriend territory with the trepidation and clumsiness of two sixth graders. We said "I love you," nervously, then boldly, and later, offhandedly: "Gottarunintoameetingnow. Loveyoubye."
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We met one another's close friends and families. I plugged a flat iron into his bathroom wall, and half of his socks somehow ended up under my bed. We fought about large issues like religion, and smaller ones, such as the ongoing debate in which I tried to sell him on the wonders of Centrum, and he grumbled back: "I'm not taking your damn vitamins unless you wrap them in bacon first."
A year has passed and, while in some ways we feel eternally linked, in others, we are still just getting to know one another. I complain about his snoring, the fact that he sleeps too much, the amount of golf he watches every Sunday, his aversion to the outdoors, and his scary passion for late-night poker games and Doritos. He complains mostly about how much I complain. There is also the business of my being moody, messy, bossy, and inexplicably fearful of both making calls for takeout and answering the door once it arrives.
At the same time, I know that we are in love, that we actually get each other, and that as soon as he is out of my presence for three seconds, I want to see him again. I find him hilarious, generous, gorgeous. He is kind to friends and strangers and dogs in the park. His amazing brain contains more random information than Wikipedia; he loves his mother to the moon and back; and he is the most well-read NASCAR fan the world has ever known. Colin brings out a strange blend of the romantic and the practical in me: I don’t believe in The One, but I still hope that he is it.
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Two months ago, after much deliberation, we moved in together, and so far it has been wonderful. But the most important question still remains: Will we last forever? I suppose this is where things start to get interesting. Because although we have already taken a big leap, we’ve yet to land.