I remember late-night talks on the couch, practically falling asleep in front of one another but not wanting to say ‘goodnight.’ Our fingertips danced in each others’ hands, and my cheeks ached from the genuine smile stretched across my face.
I remember the butterflies that fluttered in my stomach before he arrived and the passionate kisses that marked his departure. I look back at those early days and wish that, almost twelve years later, we could recapture a little bit of that newness, whatever made each encounter exciting.
But I wouldn’t want to recapture everything.
I remember one Saturday afternoon when we strategically planned our attendance at three different movie theaters. Yes, these ‘poor college students’ somehow found the money to see three movies in one day but not to eat something besides Ramen noodles. But we had our priorities straight–the next day was the Oscars, and we hadn’t seen every movie up for ‘Best Picture.’
Off to see Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon and then to see Chocolate (pr0nounced however French people say the word) and then we’d end the night with Traffic. Six-plus hours of movies together so that we could feel qualified to predict the winner.
I don’t remember if I picked the winner, nor do I remember watching those Oscars.
But I do remember the 83rd Academy Awards. The year we hadn’t seen at least half of the nominated movies. The year when the butterflies were dead for the moment as the drool collected in the corners of my mouth. The year when I opened my eyes and said, “Let me know the winner in the morning. I’m going to bed.”
Yeah, I guess you could say I’m over it.
Post inspired by Mama Kat’s prompt to write about something you did with your spouse when you dated but now you’re ‘over.’ What is something you’re over?