Last night, before I went to bed, I ironed some beige slacks and a blue shirt. It was the same thing I wore on my first date with Vicky. "Now, I'll look the same… just a lot fatter," I joked.
"I know. I know," Vicky replied. "Me too." This from the woman who has been losing weight…
Today, for those of you watching the calendar, is our anniversary. We were going to celebrate it last night, since our first date was on a Sunday but opted for tonight, instead, on the actual date. We're going back to Dave & Busters. We're going to shoot some pool, have a drink, eat something yummy…. but NOT injure Vicky! At least, that's the goal.
It's absolutely astonishing. I never thought I'd be in this place. After four years of one short relationship after another, I'd kind of grown to accept that it would be my lot. And I was okay with that, because I figured I'd already had my chance. I blew it. That was all.
And now, here comes Vicky. Walking past me at Dave & Busters a year ago, I remember thinking, "Damn, she's cute!... and there she goes…" Immediately, I knew I'd only have one date.
Here we are, a year later. In September, we'll be married.
Spooky, that's what it is. When did I get this lucky?
One year ago. That's when.