He and I argue (disagree affectionately) about the specifics of time where my moving in is concerned. As you know it was a little tricky at first, and there was that one time I sort of grabbed my boxes and fled. So while I date this brick in our life’s wall at The First Move In, he chooses to recognize this same fence post notch at approximately four months later – the date I told the DMV we were all official-like and placed his address (it’s just now starting to really feel like my address) on my driver’s license.
Hell, the boy even set a reminder with SIRI, so that every September (what’s the actual date again, Blue Eyes?), a little blue box does a sanctioned happy dance upon all of our various iGadgets mounted in walls and laid atop desks and carried as limbs throughout his (our) house.
I think it’s time, however, for me to set my own SIRI reminder. Because just this week, he made it for real official. He said “It’s you and me together for the rest of all time, and this is YOUR house, too” and he sealed it with a poster. A Sex and the City poster. It was early one weekday evening. We had just eaten dinner; curried carrot soup for me, and grilled chicken – what else – for him. He had disappeared for a few minutes. I was sitting at the table scrolling Instagram, and he came and silently took my hand, leading me from the dining room across the blonde oak floors. That usually means sexy time is afoot (stole that phrase from Jenni’s archives – sorry girl, it was too funny not to recycle) but this time, it was something a little different.
A huge Blockbuster issued, textured, framed, Sex and the City poster (not sexy time, but, come on, apples and oranges, people, apples and oranges). Carrie, Miranda, Samantha and Charlotte all sashaying off the sound proof batting. Hung square and center on the west wall of his (our) movie theater.
When you swear on Sex and the City, ain’t no goin’ back.
“I’m looking for love. Real love. Ridiculous, inconvenient, consuming, can’t love without each other love.”