Many years ago, I started hearing about a man, B. Everyone seemed to know B: my friends, workmates, friends of one of my sisters, he was the type of person with 500 Facebook friends.
I first saw him at a picnic in Camperdown Park. I’d say “met”, but I’m not sure we actually spoke. There’s a great photo he took that day: me, sitting with my friend P. It’s not only one of the only photos of me taken by someone else that I like, but I also have a very distinct, “I’m studiously ignoring the very interesting man taking my photo” look on my face.
It would be years before we would meet again, I was dating someone, as was he, and our paths never crossed.
We would chat on social media, I posted him a book I had two copies of when he was ill, I very much appreciated him reaching out when I was really sick with depression and anxiety, so I didn’t feel like it was particularly strange to go out for dinner with him and several other friends on a Tuesday night a few years ago. We drank a lot of tequila and had so much fun, I walked home across two suburbs just to come down from the post-dinner high.
A month or so later, he invited a small group of people to his new place, the perfect bachelor pad in the city, with a pool on the roof. I was nervous about going. These were attractive people in attractive swimwear. B assured me it was fine, I could hang out with him.
The night was a lot of fun, many alcohols were consumed and at one point I could see B had given up trying to get everyone’s attention to organise dinner and was ordering food for us. I listened in as he ordered two pizzas. Two seafood pizzas. Two seafood pizzas on gluten-free bases.
“This guy is crazy!” I thought, “I like him even more now! Who orders two identical pizzas to feed a party? Who orders two of the grossest pizzas to feed a party?! I need to make him mine!”
I followed him to the pizza place to pick the order up and told him pretty much that exact thing and then kissed him.
We’ve been together ever since. At first it wasn’t super serious, neither of us had expected or maybe even wanted a relationship right then and there, but we had fun. We watched a lot of movies and played a lot of video games, tried a lot of different food and drank a lot of gin.
I realised quite quickly that something huge was different with B. I was not anxious at all, beyond the first few standard new relationship hiccups. I knew much earlier than he did that I loved him and I felt absolutely fine and safe and secure waiting to see if he felt the same.
Moving in together was a similarly easy conversation, as was getting a dog.
It turned out getting married would be the same. It just kind of happily came up in conversation about a year ago.
It was something we both thought we might actually be interested in with each other.
We went to visit my parents last winter and he asked my dad to go for a walk with him. They were gone for a while and it started to snow. I thought it was slightly strange.
Various things happened and changed (Pneumonia scare! Moving house! Going back to uni! Changing jobs!) and before we knew it, a year had passed.
We went to B’s parent’s farm last week, for a holiday, for some time away from the city and on the 25th of June, B proposed and I said yes, because I’ve known for a long time that he would ask and I would say yes, because it’s always seemed like that would be the perfect thing to do.
So, to the rest of forever, with my best friend.