I know that many, if not most, of you who read this blog regularly are friends who I have not seen in a long while or on a regular basis recently due what I have referred to as "my busy schedule with school." I have a confession to make: yeah, I'm busy, sure, but my social time has been blissfully occupied with someone who has become a valued treasure. I think it's long overdue that I introduce you to someone who has become an incredibly important person in my life and I trust will remain incredibly important for a long time to come.
Ain't she HOT?!?
Blogosphere, meet Lesley Stern.
Lesley and I met at school in the fall quarter of 2003. We shared the Fundamentals of Visual Communications class. As two of the biggest mouths in the class, more than willing to critique other's work and to discuss openly with the instructor about our own work, we immediately bonded.
Our first friendly gesture was to exchange music. Though she objected to the Basement Jaxx and Prefuse 73, she thoroughly enjoyed Mates of State. And though I couldn't really get into Ted Leo (I had tried before), she was the Natalie Portman to my Zach Braff when it came to The Shins; it took me a few months to warm to them, but I'm glad I did.
More interestingly, perhaps, is the similarity in our backstories. She, too, abandoned a previous life in craft—in her case, a high profile position with a famous fashion designer—to become a graphic designer.
We shared another class together later, Corporate Identity, which I think we both struggled through. During the course of that class, we fomented what I believed would be a very strong friendship. Actually, I kind of developed a crush on her, I'll admit it. A small crush, but a crush nonetheless. As many of you know, I was in a committed relationship, and at the time, that relationship was fairly strong. As is often said, just because you've placed your order doesn't mean you can't glance back at the menu, right?
Lesley and I didn't have any classes together after that, but we stayed in touch a bit. Last summer, however, we didn't speak. I took the quarter off from school, and she, as I learned near the end of the summer, had a very difficult summer dealing with a tragedy in her very tight family.
It was toward the end of the summer that she called me with computer trouble, and we talked for a long time about the terrible tragedy that befell her family. She was incredibly honest and open about how she felt with me, something that I respected (and still do). We made plans to take a trip to the Apple Store together to figure out her computer trouble.
We never made it to the Apple Store. I had to cancel because my committed relationship ended a few days later, and I needed to deal with that. (Okay, I know what you're thinking. Correlation does not mean causation. That's all I will say about that.)
Now things get spicy:
A little over a month later, Lesley and I made plans to have dinner before her class so she could show me a project for which she wanted feedback. When I met her outside of school, I simply don't know what came over me—I planted a kiss. Sure, I'm an affectionate guy, but in most situations, I'd have gone for the cheek. I didn't. And she didn't seem to mind. In fact, she seemed a little blown away.
After dinner, we found an empty classroom back on campus, and we looked at her stuff. As we looked at her sketches, my heart was aflutter. I knew that I had had a crush on her, I knew that I was getting past my old relationship, I knew I was ready for at least a date with someone. So I planted a kiss on Lesley again. I don't know; it seemed to work the last time. It worked this time again. I confessed to having had a crush on her, asked her out on a date, and she agreed.
Now things get REALLY spicy:
We got in the elevator to head down to the street and have a cigarette before I left. We were alone in the elevator, and this time I decided to really kiss her. And I did. That night, I went to a Halo LAN-party and told all the boys that I had just made out with a hot girl in an elevator. Everyone had the same response: "Did you know her?" Ha-ha.
*That was at the end of October. And now, six months later, Lesley is my cherished partner, and so far, it has been the most rewarding, fulfilling relationship of my life. And my friends have finally stopped referring to her as "Elevator Girl."
I'm not fatalistic; I don't believe things happen for a reason. However, an interesting corollary to that belief is that I don't believe opportunities choose their timing and you have to take them when the come. No one has ever improved their life or improved the world around them without taking a risk. I took a huge emotional risk kissing Lesley that day, and it has paid off admirably.
She's an incredibly adroit designer (and stop her forcefully if she tries to tell you otherwise). She never ceases to amaze me; just last night, Lesley impressed me greatly by singing a song she learned in elementary school listing every English preposition. Most importantly, she has a seemingly boundless capacity for love and nurture—just look at the illimitable line of friends and annexed family members in her life.
So, to Lesley: on the occasion of your 28th birthday, I'm want to tell you publicly, I love you. It's one thing when a relationship develops too quickly because of projected expectations for a relationship (something we've all been guilty of at one time or another). In this case, though, things developed quickly because there was no other way it could. No woman has fit into my life as well as you. No one has made me want to be a better person more than you. No one has affected my perception of the world in more positive ways than you. As someone who has spent the better part of my life having my emotional state microscopically analyzed, I can say with scientific certainty that this is the happiest I have ever felt. For that, I will always appreciate how you entered my life. Thank you for being a part of it.
Lesley, I love you. Happy birthday.
(Sappy post concluded. If you want to poke me in the ribs for this post in the comments, go ahead—I know you're just jealous. We now return to the vituperative bloggery, already in progress.)*
UPDATE: From Stiggy:
What made [Xerxes] and I chuckle is you started nearly every conversation that night (and that week) with: "I made out with a hot chick in an elevator".
True. Sorry I didn't make that clear. After all, I was, well, excited.
