There comes a point, in every single girl's life, where you can't help but wonder if the guy you're dating could one day be the inspiration of a Law & Order: SVU episode. You try not to think about it, but it creeps up on you, the curiosity of whether or not he and B.D. Wong would have some sort of drama-filled patient/psychiatrist moment, where after hours of analysis, your boyfriend finally confesses to cutting you into pieces with a butter knife and saving your remains in a shoebox.
No? I'm the only single girl with that recurring dream? Hmm. Perhaps I need to stop inputting channel 34 on my remote so much.
Standing at baggage claim 4, trying to create conversation in the strange me/college friend/internet boyfriend circle of awkwardness I had created, I came to a realization.
There are certain things a person just knows. My dad has a mysterious knack for knowing whether or not a person is inherently good upon meeting them. My best friend's cat always knows when I want to sleep in whenever I'm cat sitting. Because that's the point where she magically starts meowing uncontrollably.
And this, in my heart and my head, I knew to be true Friday afternoon. That this guy wasn't going to chop me into little bits. He wasn't going to pull a chainsaw out of his luggage or show me his super cool pocketknife. He was going to open the door for me. Buy me dinner. Attentively listen to me play the piano at mass. Hold my hand. And call me beautiful.
And with that, I dropped my security guard Beth off at her apartment, and brought Seth back to my own, for our own little Easter dinner celebration.
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