I don’t know when it will be, but I think in a few months you’ll ask me “when did you know?”
And I’ll say…
I knew when you showed up at the bar, the very first night, after I ditched our first date.
I knew when you said I threw up on you, and you hugged me, and whispered it was cute.
But really, I knew because I get butterflies thinking about you & me.
I imagined it would be something like this, but this is better & way worse & terrifying & dizzying & overwhelming.
I knew when you cried, and I wanted to hold you tighter and never let you go.
I knew when you sent me a ridiculous photo of yourself, and I thought it was cute.
I knew when you asked me what was wrong, and I actually told you.
I knew when I wanted to go down on you and I didn’t really care if we had sex afterwards.
I knew when we stayed up until 3 am the first few nights you stayed over, and I felt like there was still so much more I could know about you.
I knew because there was never a moment I doubted it. I knew because there was no question in my mind. I knew because I knew.