21 May 2011
Last year Rich and I had our first date, or hang out or whatever we were shyly calling it. It was the first time we hung out outside of the bar we were both frequenting regularly after work. He came to my house with his old Schwinn cruiser and helped me put air in the tires of my 3-speed Ross. I thought it was really cool that he was working as a bike mechanic at the time, it was reassuring to know that he can fix things. That he wants things to work, and not just bikes. We rode to the bay and sat near the water in a field and drank a bottle of wine while making friends with a caterpillar. He tried on my sunglasses. I told him not to break them with his potato head. Then we were kissing. Those perfect kisses with your heart thudding in your throat because the person you're kissing is so new that you feel brand new. We weren't paying attention to the black clouds moving toward us. A thunderstorm broke out and we rode half drunk on wine through the rain as fast as we could. I remember laughing and smiling the whole way home.