Our Moments

Ryan and I were friends for a few months before we even broached the topic of dating. We were both single for a long time before we met. I was on a three year hiatus from dating, after a number of long-term-but-didn’t-quite-work-out-let-down relationships. We were both a little afraid.

Let’s just say that he was nervous, and I was nervous.

We met through a mutual friend and hung out as a three-some of buddies for quite some time. After deciding that we were a little more interested in something other than a “buddy,” we timidly called each other. We slowly warmed up to the idea of asking each other on actual dates. This went on for about a month. I knew he wanted to kiss me at the end of every date, shifting from foot to foot outside my apartment door. But neither of us was immediately willing to take that risk. The risk of making the first move. I can still see him in his winter garb–big, black coat and blue snow hat with red stripes, sheepishly saying goodnight and hurrying off as if he had never even entertained the thought of a kiss.

So for the longest time he didn’t. Kiss me, that is. Over and over and over. He didn’t. My friends would ask, as all good girlfriends do, and I would say, “No, I guess I’m not sure why.”

I had a very small love-seat-type couch in those days, in my very small apartment. We watched a movie there one night late in that first month. After it ended, the usual awkward vibe starting exuding from Ryan. The one that let me know he was thinking about kissing me, but wasn’t sure if he should. I tried to relax and give off my own vibe. The vibe of a completely laid back and easy-going lady who wouldn’t mind at all if a kiss should happen upon her. That vibe.

And then it happened.

He actually pulled the, “what’s that over there?” You know. Remember? From high school? The guy would make you look away and then you’d turn back and get smacked with a surprise kiss? Yup, that’s what he did. I am not making that up. (He was thirty, yes. But the awkward moments had passed one too many times and he was desperate for a surprising twist.)

I looked at “that over there.” I turned back and found his face about a half an inch from mine.

And then I laughed in it.

Oops.

After a moment, I calmed down and said something random, knowing exactly what he was up to….

And then we kissed. A very nice, long and sweet type of kiss.

The kissing continued as he got his coat, braving the Minnesota winter weather to drive home. The kissing continued in the doorway. After he turned to go, he turned back, and the kissing continued a bit more. Then I watched him walk away and thought about how awkward beginnings can be.

That was it. Not what movies are made of, but our own little awkward beginning. After that, we quickly found our footing and kissed many a night away. The first kiss maybe wasn’t all that “Gone With the Wind,” but it was ours. A kiss neither of us could ever forget. Maybe because it was a bit awkward. But mostly because it was so sweet. And it was ours.

I miss those days, sitting here writing this now. We rarely have time for any kind of moment now. Only here and there, connections made amongst the craziness that is raising two boys. But when I look back I’m reminded of that nervous man, waiting for the right moment and then making his own. I am still drawn to him like I was back then. Waiting. For moments that are all our own, despite their imperfections. Our moments.

This post is a part of a contest over on Scribbit–go check it out and take part! I came across this contest through adventures in babywearing, a site I love to read.