Release date: Tuesday, February 2, 2021
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Most people work Monday through Friday, and try to have fun on the weekend. They go through life's ups and downs, but they never truly live. They have forgotten one simple thing they learned as a child...anything can happen at any given time, if you believe it can.
It started out as a day with little expectation. Little did I know, this day would have some basis for every decision I would make in the future. I grew up thinking all guys are complete idiots, and thanks to a Monkees song that I grew to love, I learned girls are divided into days of the week. Monday is sad. Tuesday is a dreamer. Wednesday lives their life alone. Thursday is a heartbreaker. Friday likes the good life and Sunday always wants to be a bride. Saturday is perfection. I will never be a Saturday, nor do I want to.
I was born on a Wednesday, but always thought of myself as a Tuesday. Little did I know, this Thursday, would define me as a Wednesday for a very long time.
He can recite the date, but I can tell you what day it was. It was Thursday. It was Thursday, May 25, 1995 if you need to be exact. It wasn't raining, and there was no memorable song on the radio. Hesitation filled the air in the car. Even with the window rolled down, the air was still.
Staring at a paper with an address I can no longer recall, I came up with a million reasons not to go in. I don't remember getting out of the car, and I don't remember climbing the stairs. I do remember standing in front of a closed door for a few moments before knocking. I now regret taking those moments. Time lost can never be recovered, and I would give anything to have one of those moments again.
The door opened and I don't remember what was said, if anything. All I remember was staring at the man of my dreams. If there is such a thing as love at first sight, that was it.
We never really had a first date. Maybe we should have. We just sat on the couch and talked for a while. I don't remember exactly having a first kiss, but I know it happened that day. I do know that nobody is a better kisser. Maybe it's because I was in love, or maybe he was just that good. All I know is nobody before or after could ever make me melt like the man behind one of those kisses.
There are a lot of things I don't remember, but I do recall all the things I forgot. I remember standing in the kitchen two weeks after moving in with him. What I didn't remember at the time was his name. Imagine my surprise when he called me on it.
"Do you even know what my name is?" he asked.
It dawned on me that I did not. With no mail, or even a magazine with a subscription label, on the kitchen counter to aid me in my dilemma, I just stood there. As if silence answers all prayers, I waited. Finally I blurted out, in some childish form of defiance, that I did know his name, and how dare he think that I didn't. I was not prepared for the question that followed.
"Well, what is it?" he asked.
I finally had to admit that I did not know. Note to self...when moving in on the first date; get the boy's name committed to memory.
I didn't have a job when we met, but shortly after the unknown name incident, I got a job at the phone company. It was probably a relief to my new found love that I was not in the quality control department for the white pages...