As I’m sure I’ve mentioned before, I’m a notorious people watcher, and over the weekend, I was sitting and grading at a Starbucks in the casino where Andrew was playing a tournament, when I overheard a conversation that made me think about the first time Andrew told me he loved me.
When Andrew and I got all serious and established, I swore on all that was holy that I wouldn’t tell him I loved him first. You’d think that coming from a family that says “I love you” at the end of every conversation, and at other regular intervals that I’d be more comfortable with the whole thing. But, I didn’t want it to be me to say it first. Despite my swearing not to say it did NOT mean that I did not get totally obsessed with it. I kept wondering: would today be the day? Should I JUST DO IT, all Nike-style? Should I try and force it?
I consulted my girlfriends, who were divided. Some said I should just do it, bite the bullet, and JUST SAY IT. I tried. I really did. It’s a running joke that at night, when we’d lay in bed, I’d wait until we were nearly asleep and then say, “Andrew?” and upon his responding, say very quickly, “Never mind.” One friend had a great idea: get really, really intoxicated, and then slip it out, all drunk and sloppy. Problem? Neither of us are big drinkers. And it just didn’t feel right.
Other friends were firmly in the WAIT category. I tended to agree with them. My philosophy on most things dating related is that if a guy wants something, he’ll go for it. Meaning, if he wants to ask you out, he will; if he wants to be serious with you, he’ll tell you, and if he wants to tell you he loves you, he will. Shyness, worry, and fear be damned. A guy who feels strongly enough will MAN UP and DO IT.
As true with most things love-related, once you stop waiting, obsessing and looking for it, it will come. Andrew and I went and met some friends for trivia. All seemed normal: we were sitting together, eating snacks and chatting, when the topic of my cat came up. I said, “You hate my cat, don’t you?” And he agreed and said, “Yeah, but I love you.”
We were both stunned. I grabbed his face, and said I loved him, too. He admitted later that he’d been ready; ready for weeks, knew I was aching for him to say it, but wanted to wait for the moment to be right. Sure, it wasn’t ideal—he also mentioned that he’d seen it differently, but I don’t regret it. I’ll never forget the night when the man I loved surprised the heck out of me by telling me he loved me, too.
When I least expected it.