What could possibly illuminate a sweeter, more tender, genuinely vulnerable moment than the story of a first “I love you“. I’ve said “I love you” a handful of times in my life, and I’ve meant it every time but as I’ve grown older and learned more from love the meaning of “I love you” has evolved too.
It goes without saying, today’s post is a bit sappy. I try to avoid being the girl that shows up each day to publicly post love notes to her boyfriend. Being that girl can be cringe-worthy, but on this ocassion I feel it is only appropriate to share one of those tender moments. Perhaps I just want to relive the magic. You’ve been adequately forewarned, if you don’t want to read the bleedings of my heart and the details of my tenderest memories…no judgement. But…if you’re like me and you secretly watch youtube videos of wedding vows and cry over the love of strangers, this post might not be quite as bad for you.
The story starts just after my 23rd birthday, let’s get you up to speed…I met Jordan on a ski slope and we went on precisely two whirlwind dates (one on a Thursday followed by the next on a Saturday) before deciding to spend all Super Bowl Sunday together boycotting all things sports. We assumed Seattle would be so wrapped up in a Seahawks frenzy that we would have the city all to ourselves. Our adventures on Super Bowl Sunday 2015 could constitute a post of their own but for the sake of brevity we’ll fast forward through those.
There I was sitting both confused and smitten with the boy with the glasses at the genius bar in the apple store waiting patiently for his phone to be repaired. I mentioned the family I was nannying for had given me an entire week off in the middle of February while they visited family in Arizona and I was disappointed I had nothing to do and no-one to hangout with during my random “midwinter break”. Without any prompting on my behalf he offered to take some time off from work and plan a trip together (a gesture I now can see as incredibly meaningful as it is very difficult to tear Jordan away from his job for even a weekend let alone a week). We tossed around potential destinations initially hoping to head to New York City or Colorado before deciding a road trip seemed like a better idea than a flight across the country.
I fully expected our plans for the trip just a week and a half away would fall through. I’d just met this guy after all! I’ve always had trouble even letting a guy pay for a first date, I couldn’t imagine letting someone leave work for a week to spend time with a girl he just met. We continued to spend more and more time together over the next few days and it became apparent he was just as serious about the trip as I was. “Throw caution to the wind“, I urged myself. I wanted more than anything to embrace the spontaneous adventure life had presented me.
We decided on a road trip through California (fully documented here) and I spent every moment of my free time booking hotels and planning our itinerary. I knew my friends must have thought I was crazy, in fact, I felt impetuous. What sane person would agree to spend 9 days with someone she hadn’t even kissed yet? What if there weren’t sparks? What if there were expectations and I didn’t want to oblige? What if nothing terrible happened but it was just awkward? Either way I knew we would return from the trip fully enamored with each other or sure we weren’t meant to be. I’ve always been intense in relationships so I figured I might as well find out sooner rather than later if the boy with the glasses was right for me. Luckily we had our first kiss while trip planning a few days before leaving so I no longer had to wonder if there was a physical chemistry between us.
Our road trip started in Seattle and we drove through the night to Tahoe in Northern California. After two days we hopped over to San Francisco where we spent the night and awoke on the morning of Valentine’s Day. Talk about awkward right?! I knew prior to planning the expedition that Valentine’s Day would fall mid trip and I figured I would just ignore it. We had only just met…we were already on an amazing road trip together, there was no way I expected a Valentine’s day kiss let alone a card or any sort of acknowledgement of the holiday.
That day was magical. Jordan wrote me sweet notes on the napkins at brunch. We stopped to kiss by the golden gate bridge and laughed non stop at the world’s dirtiest Chipotle on the way down to Los Angeles. That evening we arrived at our hotel in Korea town and shared a bottle of Veuve Clicquot before shyly confessing we were “falling for each other”. Still, we didn’t say THOSE WORDS, in fact we stumbled around awkwardly trying our best to say everything but those words. I know I’m not the one who has aimlessly circled around “I love you” at the beginning of a serious relationship. It’s like you can’t even say “I love champagne” because it makes you too vulnerable. There we were falling for each other as I slipped into a slinky little black dress and we hopped into an uber on the way to a club on Valentine’s day.
That night at the club in Los Angeles is funny because I remember certain parts clearly-sneaking into a private party to dance, random people dressed as cupid, climbing into balcony seating to kiss…but most of the evening is a happy blur. I guess I should thank Vodka crans and champagne for my selective memory. There must have been hundreds of people in the popular night club that night but I don’t remember a single interaction with any of them, it was truly as if Jordan was the only person in the world.
There we were kissing next to someone dressed in a stuffed heart costume, sticky floors and drunken club goers all around. “Why do we keep saying I’m falling in love with you, when really I should just say I’ve fallen. I already love you. I love you” Jordan whispered to me. Saying “I love you” for the first time on Valentine’s day seems incredibly contrived but I can promise the holiday could not have mattered less, our feelings were authentic. Of course I responded “I love you too” and then we couldn’t stop saying it.
How long we remained at the club was a mystery but when we did return to our hotel room romance was still in the air…which is why I pulled out my most seductive move and ate an entire pizza Jordan ordered for me. Seriously, he didn’t get one bite. He just watched me eat it. Romantic.
Today is Jordan’s birthday. Truthfully, he doesn’t love celebrating birthdays however, since that night in L.A. I can’t stop radiating love for him. I can’t help but adore an occasion that gives me an excuse to talk about how much I love him without seeming like a crazed lovesick lunatic. At which point you’re probably thinking “only lovesick lunatics defend their reasoning for acting like a lovesick lunatics”. Point taken. Happy Birthday to Jordan. He’s my partner in weird, the only person who doesn’t mind when I lick his face or bite his nose. He’s my best friend and I am so grateful he was born.