It was just a flicker of a thought. I didn’t give it much thought, because we met and then we were slaying orcs or Squirrels of Rage together or something. And we talked and I noted how your smile made your whole face light up, how your laugh was infectious, how beautiful you were, how easy it was to talk and laugh with you, and how being in the same with you made me feel.

Of course, at the time, you were working in another state during the week and I was dating someone else, so, of course, nothing could come of it.

Time passed; we each dated other people, each of us made some errors in judgement. Sometimes we went months without seeing each other. One night you came over and we watched Drop Dead Fred together… I almost kissed you that night, but something wasn’t quite yet in sync. I don’t know what it was. There were some things we each had to go through first.

At our friends’ wedding, we were both in the bridal party and we sat next to each other at the bridal table, laughing, writing notes, teasing the best man. I noticed again how beautiful you were in the dress you wore. I thought to myself, "I really should marry this woman."

But you were dating someone else, and things still weren’t quite right. I met someone else that night and she and I spent time with each other, even though my heart was with you most of the time: at the Halloween party you threw, at the New Year’s Eve party, at Christmas when we were teased into a perfunctory kiss under the mistletoe.

Then, one year ago, we went to the Scottish Highland Games with a friend of ours. We watched the caber toss. We ate nachos at a Mexican restaurant in downtown Davis. We laughed, you bought a stone dragon (one of the two stone dragons that guards our front door even now), we went for ice cream, and then we called it a day.

But the day wasn’t over. I got home and started to watch a movie I’d rented, The Secret Life of Walter Mitty, with Danny Kaye. And I couldn’t stop thinking about you and the day we’d just spent together. On a whim, I sent you an Instant Message and asked if you wanted to come over and watch a movie with me. I was expecting you to say no, that you were too tired, that you needed to work the next day. But you said yes, and I hurriedly cleaned my room so that you wouldn’t be too appalled when you came over.

And that night after the movie was laughed, we talked, we teased. And there you were, your face just a few inches from mine. I hesitated, knowing that if it was the wrong thing, I’d lose you as a friend and I wouldn’t have been able to stand not having you in my life at all. But I kissed you anyway. And to my amazement you kissed me back.

And that night when you lay in my arms, I knew I’d been right all along. You were the woman I was going to marry.

We spent a couple of days dancing around the issue: what did it all mean? Were we friends? Would we keep seeing each other? What would happen next?

Since then, we’ve at least spoken to each other every single day; even when we were in two different states, even when we were on opposite ends of the continent, even when we were tired, sick, angry at each other, angry at our jobs, we always talked. Not a single day has gone by that I haven’t heard your voice or thought about you or marveled at how lucky I am that I get to be the one to marry you.

I’ve always laughed when hearing the term "soulmate"; I never believed in such things. Now I do, and I wonder how I ever felt complete without you.

It’s been a year now. And it’s been the best year of my entire life.