the incredible edible emerald

Finding Love on Craigslist

In January of 2009, I moved back in with my parents after living on my own for nearly three years. I had to leave all of my friends and go home to where I had none. All of my friends from high school had moved elsewhere or had moved on. I was cripplingly lonely. The extent of my social skills is making friends on the internet. I’m never one to bash internet friendship, my internet friends are some of the best and most reliable friends I’ve ever had. But I was sick of being alone in my room all the time.

So, for some reason still unknown to me, I went to Craigslist.

I know what you’re thinking. No one goes on Craigslist to make friends. But, I guess I did.

I browsed through the personals, and saw a lot of the same: a ton of military dude bros. Not that there’s anything necessarily wrong with military bro dudes, I’m just not interested. I talked with some of them anyway, saying I was looking for friendship. They were mostly nice, but then sooner or later they all sent me unsolicited dick pix. So that was the end of that.

Then I saw someone new, someone interesting. He was smart, shy, an art student. With a few paragraphs and a self portrait of a bearded fellow’s reflection in glass, I was entranced. It was a strange sensation, I had never felt like this, especially over a personal ad of all things. I e-mailed him right away. I wasn’t expecting a response so quickly, but a few hours later I got one. Then, my piece of shit laptop died.

Mother. Fucker.

This was also back when I didn’t have a smart phone with internet access. Those were dark times.

A few weeks later, my laptop was repaired and the first thing I did was check my e-mail. Nothing from the shy art student. I e-mailed him back explaining my predicament, hoping he’d believe me. It sounded like such a pathetic excuse, I know I’ve used it a few times with college professors when I hadn’t gotten an assignment in on time. 

A couple days later, a response. He was still interested. For the next few weeks, we were constantly e-mailing each other. Each e-mail was longer than the last, the time between each one being sent was shorter and shorter. I found myself checking my e-mail the first thing when I woke up and when I got home from school. Every time I saw his name in my inbox, my heart swelled and an uncontrollable grin took over my face. 

We talked about everything. Sent each other lists of links to youtube videos of our current favorite songs. He sent me his Flickr, full of gorgeous photography. I sent him a Photobucket with pictures of my stencils and paintings. It was official, I was twitterpated. I wanted more. We swapped phone numbers.

One morning I was getting ready for school, pacing in my bathroom. An unsent message on the screen of my phone on my bathroom counter, “Want to go out for tea?” I would pick up my phone, look at the message, set it back down, and fiddle with something. Do my hair. Look at the phone. Double check my make-up. Look at the phone. Change my outfit. Straighten my hair, again. Look at my phone. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, reached over to my phone with a single finger, summoned my courage, and pressed send. I watched a digital message fold itself into an envelope and watched it fly off the screen. 

No less than half a minute later, my phone vibrated against the counter. “I’d love to.”

I asked him out for Boba Tea at a cafe downtown. We set a date: 2PM on Friday. It was Wednesday. Longest two days of my life. I was a giddy ball of nerves, constantly checking the clock.

Then it was Friday. I put on my favorite clothes, a sweater suggested by my ex roommate “the one that makes your boobs look excellent”, I even wore cute underwear. I was on my way. As soon as I left, a wall of anxiety hit me. I kept thinking, “It’s not too late, I can turn around and go home. I don’t have to go.” But what? Why? I was nuts for this guy and I needed to see him. I needed to hear his voice, see his eyes. I turned the music up louder and louder until it drowned out my incessant thoughts and kept going. Once downtown, I pulled into a space across the street from the cafe, checked my hair in the rear view mirror, and then hurried across the street. 

I opened the door, turned to my left, and he was there. Sitting at a table by the window wearing a black turtle neck sweater and black framed glasses, typing away at his computer (which he later told me he brought in case I didn’t show up). I paused. He looked up and did a double take. I saw he already had a drink so I nervously shuffled to the counter. We kept trying to steal glances of each other, but failed at being secretive. 

With my boba in hand I took off my jacket and joined him at the table. It started to snow. We talked for hours. I was mystified. Fuck, this dude was gorgeous. I’m surprised I wasn’t a babbling mess. And he’s witty, clever, funny, cute, and so cute so cute. I wanted to touch his beard so badly, my hand was literally itching to do it. But I didn’t. His eyes were a soft but bright blue. They lit up when I laughed at his jokes. It was surprisingly easy to talk to him. One of us, after our boba was long gone and a lot of time had passed, realized our parking meters had to have been expired for awhile. We went outside to my car, since it was closest, and stood with snowflakes collecting on our heads. We didn’t want it to end, but we could both feel that we weren’t sure how to continue. Nervously, he asked, “Wanna go play Wii at my place?”

He got in my car, and we both jumped from Gay Bar by Electric Six playing on full blast as I turned on my car. Only a little embarrassing. I drove him to his car, then I followed him to his place. On my way there, I quickly called my then closest internet friend and left a frantic message something to the tune of, “OH MY GOD HE’S SO CUTE AND I’M GOING OVER TO HIS PLACE NOW TALK TO YOU LATER BYE OH GOD HE’S CUTE.”

We spent the rest of the evening sitting on opposite sides of his living room facing each other and talking. More hours of talking. I admit I had a hard time focusing, I just wanted so desperately to crawl over to him and touch him, kiss him, hold his hand, something. But I was shy, he was shy, so I didn’t. When he went to his kitchen to make tea, I followed him. Somehow we got to the subject of the sizes of our hands and feet. I held my hand to his, they were the same size. He put on my shoes, our feet were the same size. We sat at the counter and compared handwriting and signatures. He let me study the contents of his iPod.

Suddenly, it was 3 in the morning. We had been on this date for 13 hours. I realized I should go home, he walked me to the door. I didn’t kiss him. We hugged. What a fool I was. I didn’t remember the drive home. I just remember running up the stairs and checking my e-mail and seeing his name in my inbox. 

The next day, we were Facebook friends and chatting. It had only been a few hours, but I wanted to see him again. I craved it. I needed it. I had never had that kind of instant connection with someone before, and I know he felt it too. You always hear those lists of ridiculous date rules and etiquette. Wait three days? Wait for him to make the move? Fuck that shit. I asked him what he was up to, he said he was cleaning and doing homework. I asked if he had time for me after those things. “If I have to rearrange time and space to see you again, yes. Hell yes.”

Then I was at his house again, sitting on the floor watching him cook me dinner with a grey and black striped apron tied around his waist. He made some kind of delicious vegetable pasta. With each addition of a new vegetable, he asked me if liked it first. Yes. Yes. Yes. Hell yes. He turned at me and smiled. I watched him with my face in my hands, admiring how careful he was chopping and adding the vegetables, measuring the ingredients, changing the temperature, and stirring the noodles. We ate messy date food that broke the rules and then laid on the floor. He got up and brought out a big bag of pillows for us to lay on. While laying next to each other, I couldn’t take it anymore. My hand creeped up over my head and touched his hair. His fingers came over and coyly touched me back. I asked if I could touch his beard. He said yes. A few moments after I stroked his face, he grabbed me and kissed me.

FIREWORKS. SPARKS IN THE AIR. STANDING OVATION. WHAT A FANTASTIC MOMENT.

I was there again until early in the morning. Drunk on giddiness and post-first-kiss glory, we just lay on the floor and touched each other. It wasn’t necessarily sexual, at least not on my part. I was exploring new and exciting territory. I really just wanted to feel him, know he was real, connect the guy on the screen to the guy laying next to me. I felt his arms and his chest, his strong legs, traced his fingers. I asked him if he was seeing anyone else. He said no. I asked him if we could only see each other. He laughed and said yes. 

This time when I left, we kissed. Magic. He walked me out to my car and watched me leave. When I got home, there was a request to be “in a relationship” on Facebook. (shy geek dating habits in the modern world, folks) I confirmed.

It’s been three years today since we first met. This afternoon, I’m heading down to Colorado Springs to meet the same red headed fellow at the same Boba Tea Cafe. It’s not supposed to snow today, but it wasn’t supposed to three years ago either. I hope I’ll find him sitting at the table by the window, with the same kind of surprise and excitement in his eyes when he sees me walk in. We’ll sit and have tea and this time I’ll get to lean over the table and touch his face. Kiss him, even.

Finding Max on Craigslist seems like such a fluke to me. I had never looked on Craigslist before, and he told me later that was the only ad he had ever posted. We didn’t live in the same parts of town or frequent the same places. I really think had I not decided to check Craigslist that day, we never would have met. And I’m so glad I did.

We’ve lived apart in the same town, together in the same house, apart in different towns, and apart in different countries. We’ve been through quite a lot together, but we have yet to fight or have an argument. Max is the sweetest, gentlest, most understanding man I’ve ever known, and I’m so grateful to have him in my life and have him as my partner. He still fills me with giddiness and gives me butterflies.  Lately, since we’ve been living in different cities, in lieu of the typical e-mails, we’ve been sending each other voice posts. I’m still excited every time his name pops up in my inbox.

I know it’s quite a cliche when people say they thought they were never capable of finding a love as great as the one they’ve discovered with their partner. But it’s true. I always knew I was capable of that kind of love, but I didn’t think I’d ever find someone who loved me back, and with the same intensity. I did. And I am so lucky.

I love you, Max. Happy Three Year Anniversary.

(We really need more recent photos, babe)

(Source: skeeba)