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Today in Personal History: A Sparkle, A Glow

On October 28, 1994, I met Doug. There was a cast party at the house where he was staying. I didn’t know him, but somehow we started talking.

He kept asking me to tell him jokes, but I’ve never been good at remembering the set-ups to any punchlines I know. As I kept drawing blanks, he was the one who came up with the jokes. And he did impressions of people he knew, most of whom I still haven’t met 16 years later.

I can’t say that I’ve never laughed harder, because as funny as he was (and is), and as much fun as I had, I was seriously smitten in a giddy, heart-a-flutter, weak-in-the-knees kind of way. I kept worrying that our time together would end and I’d never see him again.

I felt a kind of happiness that I can’t describe except by telling you he’s the only person who has inspired me to feel exactly that way. The intensity of that feeling seems to have faded, but just when I think it will never be as strong as it was on that first night, there it is again, as keen as ever.

Over the course of that first very long-yet-short conversation, we shared any tedious bit of information that might prevent the night from ending too soon. We wanted to keep talking, but as the morning sun filled the living room, we couldn’t deny that we were exhausted and needed sleep. We lay next to each other on the futon, fully clothed, and the only potentially scandalous thing I’d done with him was fall in love too quickly.

Regardless of the label others might put on our relationship now or in the future–commitment, civil union, marriage–we’re partners. I like what that word connotes about what we give to each other and what we get from being together. I’ve become more myself by being with him. And, of course, he is my sweetheart, and I am his. We hold these truths to be self-evident.

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One Response

  1. that’s such a sweet story!

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