* You are driving. And in the passenger seat beside you, I’m stressed.
You are not only one of the best casual sex partners I ever had, but you are actually a skilled driver too, but for some reason your firm sense of right and wrong makes for exasperating car conversation. You ask, “Can I flip him off?” I say, “No! Just switch over to the next lane. You’re going to hit them when they stop short. And no, it’s not worth it!” When we finally reach our destination, I’m already drained of energy. The only solution to this problem is me drive home.
* He knows he wants to marry you.
“Sam, I can see you marrying this woman.” May good friend Pierre shakes his head sardonically as I tell him the New York girl I met online is coming over to visit. “If this happens, you’ll be my best man,” I retort. Har har, we’re thinking. Weddings only happen to other people when you’re 18.
A few days later, I stand waiting outside the arrival doors of the Toronto airport terminal, nervously thinking of how you look like based on the pictures you’ve sent. I am anxious and doubtful until I catch sight of you. I see your eyes, and you see mine. “There you are,” I tell myself. “I would recognize you anywhere.” We kiss for the first time; just barely more than strangers. And then I know this is wonderfulâ€¦ Pierre is going to need a tux.
* You are on the delivery table.
I’m no lightweight. I have gone through four seasons of “E.R.” But when I see our son Brian come out your body drenched in unknown fluids, my brain releases a series of expletives ranging from sources as diverse as “South Park” to “Scooby-Doo.” By the time his twin brother Matt emerges, all I hear is white noise. I aimlessly take pictures as the doctor handles their oddly dripping bodies.
In gaining two wonderful sons, I’ve lost a few things too mainly, my appetite. From that day on, I have never looked at veal the same way. I wouldn’t have been anywhere but by your side during that miraculous act, but I’ve decided to give up hospital dramas.