That summer had also been a rainy one, and on a Sunday evening, after playing cards with the girls, I made my way to Lark Street. The rain had let up, and the evening had turned into a beautiful one.

I would go out for one cocktail, completely alone, sit at the bar, and be all right with being alone. There was nothing left to prove.

I walked into Oh Bar wearing an old pair of Structure jeans and a T-shirt. The place was practically deserted on this particular Sunday night, and I was glad for that. Sitting at the bar, I ordered a screwdriver and smiled at the sunny glass of orange before me. For all that had happened, I was all right. Without any job prospects before me (aside from a quick temp assignment at the Boston Phoenix), without any real direction of where I was headed, I still felt good about things, and the expansive future of what-might-come spread out before me.

A trio of guys came into the bar and sat down at a table behind me. I turned around briefly, but meeting men was not why I went out that night, so I went back to my drink and solitude. When I finished, I was about to leave when one of the guys, who said his name was Patrick, introduced himself and invited me over to their table. I hesitated, then agreed. There were worse things than talking and meeting a few new people.

The cutest of the pack sat across from me, and I thought he was so handsome that he would be completely out of my league. He said his name was Andy. I looked into his eyes and saw what my life might be, and though it was the last thing I was looking for, the idea of love peeked out of my heart. I dared to hope that he was seeing the same thing.

We stared into one another for hours, talking until we were the last two people there. I didn’t want the morning to come. We’ve been together ever since, and today we celebrate our tenth anniversary.

Happy Anniversary Andy – I love you. Here’s to us!