us.

Jonathan & I met in the simplest, most unexpected of ways. Simple because it all started with “hello”; unexpected because, well… we met on Myspace.

I had seen several male profiles — strictly for friendship, mind you — before I saw Jonathan’s. His absolutely captivated me. His photograph was artistic & thought-provoking, & the contents within his profile were quite the rarity (for me at least). The books he read, the music he listened to, his personal beliefs, the movies he liked — everything was so different from what I was used to in men. (What was I used to, you ask? “Movies: Anything with Vin Diesel; Music: ICP, Nickleback, Metallica, & Kid Rock; Books: I don’t read; Religion: blowing shit up.”)

But Jonathan seemed to have his life together; plus, he was bloody gorgeous. It all seemed to good to be true, but I wrote him a message anyway, introducing myself & telling him — in not so many words — that I thought he was dreamy. (A rather forward, daring move on my part.) Within a few days, he responded back & we made a date to chat online.

We chatted online while he was at his cubicle at work. The conversation flowed so easily that it almost felt like we had talked before. & at the end of the conversation — he was clocking out of work — he asked if he could call me. I said yes, gave him my number, & he called me that evening.

During our phone conversation, I remember being absolutely charmed by his voice. He had this eloquent way of speaking in which he would pronounce every syllable in certain words. It was such a unique way of talking that I thought he had an accent. I asked if he was born in this country (I thought his voice sounded German), but he just laughed & said “No, I was born in Arizona.” Regardless, I swooned a little harder.

We had a lovely conversation on the telephone; lovelier than what you would expect from us only having known each other for less than 24 hours. I was so comfortable with him. Granted, a little cautious (he could’ve been a serial killer) but comfortable, nonetheless. Before hanging up, he said “We should meet sometime.” I agreed, & the very next day we had our first date.

Now, at the time, I didn’t think it was a date. I just thought it was two people meeting for the first time, getting to know each other for a possible lifelong friendship. Nothing more, nothing less. I hadn’t thought of him in a romantic way at that point; not seriously, at least. I mean, he was cute & everything, but I simply wasn’t in the market for a new boyfriend. I was actually quite enjoying my singledom: the parties, the clubs, the flirting with strangers, the late night gossip fests. For a girl who had spent the better part of her teenaged years with a guy she thought she was going to marry, I was way behind. It felt so good to be free… & then, of course, it also hurt like the dickens, but I refused to acknowledge that part of it.

As I drove for over an hour to meet Jonathan for the first time, I was preparing myself for the worst. Part of me was still thinking that he seemed too good to be true. What if he is a serial killer?, I thought. What if he is a serial rapist? What if he is a serial killer who rapes his victims & leaves them for dead in an alley?! I was freaking out a little bit, for the simple fact that I had NEVER done anything so remotely trusting like this in my life. Having only met the guy a day ago, & I was now on my way to see him was completely out of the ordinary for me. In my mind, I envisioned that the outcome of this journey would be told in a Lifetime movie titled “Too Trusting: The True Story & Brutal Murdering of Ev`Yan.” I was seriously thinking this.

But then I saw him; standing on a quaint little street corner (now known to us as Old Town), smoking a cigarette, wearing a nice button up shirt with jeans. My heart immediately began beating so fast that it seemed to have fallen to the pit of my stomach, & in my stomach, my heart swelled with so much love for this stranger that I started to feel woozy. At the very first sight of Jonathan, I fell in love with him. (& this is coming from a girl who thought “love at first sight” was for pansies who actually believed in rubbish like that.)

From that first date on, we were literally inseparable.

The distance between us (71.6 miles, to be exact) was difficult, but we managed to spend every weekend together. He would ride a bus for 2 hours — because he didn’t have a car — to meet me at a bus station 30 minutes away from my house. Once he arrived, we would walk around a nearby mall until he had to be on the last bus back to Pasadena. Sometimes we would just keep my car parked at the bus station & stay there talking, dreaming, musing. Because it didn’t matter what we were doing; we just desperately wanted (needed) to be next to each other.

At 11:30pm, when his bus back to Pasadena rounded the corner, I would begin to cry soft, silent tears. They would run down my cheeks & into my mouth, & I would cry the entire way home. Every single time I watched him get back on that bus, I would cry. I would make this horrible scene as though I would never see him again. It was the most pitiful, strangest thing, but I couldn’t help myself. I was attached.

Sometimes we would decide at the spur of the moment to go to a cheap motel & spend the night there, even though we both knew he had to be at work the next day, on the opposite side of town; even though we didn’t bring a change of clothes; even though we it would only give us a few more hours with each other. (But we didn’t care.) & we spent the night at some of the most shabbiest, creepiest motels; the kind where killer hitchhikers no doubt go to hide away from the police. (But we didn’t care.) & in the morning, we would wake up bright & early (3:00am) so that he would make it to work on time.

We juggled this kind of sporadic, semi-dysfunctional relationship for several months, & we juggled it well.

When we grew tired of hanging around desolate bus stations & spooky motels, we would drive to my house, where my mother & sister lived, & Jonathan would stay the entire weekend. He spent Thanksgiving, Christmas, & New Years with us, even though we had only been dating for one month at the time.

It’s no stretch to say that our romance was quite a whirlwind. Everything happened extremely fast; almost too fast for a girl like me, who typically took her sweet, precious time in relationships. But the feelings were so natural & they felt so true that neither of us had time to ask questions. We just knew.

To give you an idea of how ridiculous this all was, our relationship time line went something like this:

• We first talked on the 7th of November (2006).
• We had our first date on the 8th of November.
• We had our second date 2 days later, where he met my family (my father included).
• We said “I love you” (& meant it from the depths of our hearts) on the 9th day we were dating.
• We were talking marriage seriously by month #1.
• By month #6, we were living together.
• By month #13, we were married.

Yes, we were fucking crazy; crazy about each other & crazy in love. & that’s what kept us going. Our feelings were so strong that nothing — not the distance, not the hardships, not time, nor money — would get in the way of what we wanted, which was each other. The quickness of our union didn’t make sense, but everything fit together so perfectly. Every bitter moment — the bus rides, the tears, the motels, the traffic, the early morning goodbyes — made our relationship stronger. Not to mention, they make for some very interesting stories.

(If you’d ever like to hear a story that involves a helicopter, some nudity, & being followed by said helicopter for a few miles, just let me know. I’d be happy to oblige!)

There are other specific avenues of our story that I failed to mention. Like how, on the day after our first date, Jonathan surprised me by purchasing tickets to a Death Cab for Cutie concert in January, fully knowing that Death Cab for Cutie was my favorite band, & fully believing that we would actually still BE together by then.

Or how, on our first date, he told me had “a surprise” for me, & proceeded to lead me through dark streets & badly lit alleys to his apartment, & I just KNEW that he was going to kill me. Eventually, we arrived at his place, which was a 200-year-old home currently being restored, but to me it looked like a deserted house where meth was distributed. He told me to wait outside & listen to his ipod until he came back with the surprise. But I frantically called my mother instead, explaining to her where I was, & told her precisely what Jonathan was wearing, just in case he offed me. & then he came out of the house with something behind his back… & he presented to me my most favorite book, The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald.

Not only did I feel like an absolute moron, but I fell even more in love with him at that moment. I mean, really: who gives a girl a book for a first date present? It’s unheard of! Then again, everything about our relationship is unheard of.

But that’s why I like it. It’s us.