My Yahoo!

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A lot of the rest of the next day or two I’m not at liberty to describe. Let’s just say that we found that we shared more than just an intellectual connection, a fondness for SAT words and a love for independent music.

Had to call Hart and explain why I wasn’t at the Skybox for the N.C.double-A tournament semi-finals, an event which I had organized but now boged on. Basically just said that I’d explain later, but things were amazing. Called Radcliffe and explained where I was and why I didn’t pick up my luggage.

We spent the next day walking around Vancouver, and hanging out in Stanley Park, and feeling kinda giddy and amazed and full of sunshine. We bought a disposable camera and took lots of arms-extended-camera-pointed-at-faces pictures.

Talking and talking and connecting and connecting.

Just a beautiful day in every sense of the word.

We crossed the border back into America with neither incident nor illegal immigrants. Went to Radcliffe’s to pick up my stuff that spent the night at Radcliffe’s house without me. Of course, Radcliffe gave her the Radcliffe connection exam and email address request. Wanted to leave and be back alone with her.

Spent the night at her house, watched a movie, got wine and Thai food and talked and talked and talked.

The next day, I was due to fly back to Portland around 2pm. We woke up and went and got coffee. Again, the weather was on our side, too. It was a rare gorgeous NorthWest spring day. We sat outside at her neighborhood coffeshop and watched and talked and connected and observed the interesting canines in the area.

Xxxx ate just the muffin top.

Lovely, lovely, lovely, lovely.

I ended up rescheduling for the 3 pm flight. Then the 4:30, the 6, the 7:30 and then finally forced myself to keep to the 9pm last flight out. If Xxxx wasn’t so busy at work, I would’ve stayed.

If I’d known how things would turn out once away from that weekend, I would’ve found an excuse to stay.

We went to the airport and she came in with me. Since it’s post 9/11, we couldn’t go into the gate together, so we hung out at the Pyramid bar and drank beers and made googly eyes at each other and held hands.

We knew that we’d see each other the following weekend, when she was coming down to visit another friend, who had facilitated the whole thing, in a way, and a classmate from VCU Adcenter.

Finally, it was time to leave. I remember her walking away. Don’t remember what we said, but know I was beaming from ear to ear.

Got on the plane, got home and I don’t remember if I blogged or not. What do you do after a weekend that was more amazing than you had imagined?

I was exhausted and amazed and not quite sure who to share that with.

So, that’s The Story of The Crush. At least the great first part, before she freaked out (and I really helped) and we haven’t really spent more than 60 seconds talking face to face since. (not really my choice.) [addendum since i first wrote this but didn’t post: 120 minutes)]

Still the best 48 hours of 2004.

(Sigh.)

hope, hope, hope, hope.