Ten years ago today we met. I already wrote about that day here, but ended that post with my date taking a cab back home.
I'll never forget, the next day, seeing Honey sitting outside the tube station waiting for me (even though I was early). We sat outside a bar, across the street from the Dublin Castle and then we went to see Swingers. That's our movie. We continued walking in Camden for a while and I asked her if she wanted to come over and watch TV. I swear that's what I meant, too. I just figured she was fun and it would be fun to watch King of the Hill with her.
We then listened to music and didn't talk much. Then "Broken Heart" started playing and Honey started to cry. And I said, "I'm going to regret this," and I kissed her.
I've tried to analyze this moment for the last ten years, and historians will continue my unfinished work, but I'm still not sure why I said that or what made me kiss her, just like she's not sure why she started to cry.
Did my kiss have anything to do with subconscious male chauvinism? Did I think she wanted me to kiss her because of some kind of male fantasy of a weak female saved by her superhero man? Did her tears make me feel stronger? Was my kiss meant to save my princess? That bastard Jung made me think about that. I read Man and his Symbols and realized maybe I didn't kiss her because I was a sensitive man but because I was an arrogant pig like the rest of them.
But I can leave all of that for the historians. Whether she cried because the idea of going back alone to America was breaking her heart or because on King of the Hill Bobby was forced to smoke an entire carton of cigarettes doesn't matter today. And whether I kissed her because I wanted to save her or because I wanted her to save me is also meaningless, after all. Because now, ten years later, the love of my life is smarter, funnier, and more beautiful than ever, and I've had the best ten years of my life, and our best days together are yet to come.
And she's pregnant, too, which is really cool. And more than likely, I'm the father.