The first time I saw Mark, I was standing in the kitchen at the home of Katie and Eric Rogers. It was July 4, 2008. I looked outside and he was sitting in a chair on the back porch. My heart dropped to my stomach and I hoped no one noticed. Moments later, I saw a tall, beautiful, blonde woman place her left hand on his shoulder. She was wearing a ring. The craziest voice I have ever heard in my life said “wait, he’s supposed to be with me.” I laughed at myself, went outside and played cornhole with Mike Ross who made me laugh harder than I had in a very long time, which was great because I’d been sad for what seemed like forever. I never thought about the voice again.
The first time I saw Corrie was that same party, but I thought she was British, had amazing tattoos, and very mysterious. Turns out she isn’t British at all but just says some words like “because” differently than the rest of us. Oh, and she’s shy at parties. I still have photos from that party where she has short hair and everyone is laughing and having a great time.
Fast forward 4 years.
During that time we were periodically at the same parties, each with our respective others. Never really speaking. I wrote a novella about the kind of love I believed in, a love I thought was reserved for other people. I’m actually listening to the music I wrote Another Name for Autumn to, now.
May 19, 2012. Back at the Rogers’ place. Back in the kitchen. Back on the porch. Back to the beginning for both of us, though I didn’t know that yet. I noticed he wasn’t wearing a ring and my heart did that thing again, but this time there was also a pang of sadness for them both. I went outside and sat with Michael Vogel and a few other people while they talked about things I know nothing of. I listened and tried to imagine their world. Mark came over and sat with us but didn’t stay long. He got up and left the conversation while I wondered if it was something I said.
I’m pretty oblivious to any attractive woman making any kind of effort because I’m still a nerdy 5th grader in my head. Good thing she didn’t take my actions as rude or total disinterest! It wasn’t a great time in my life, but good friends definitely made it a lot easier. And it put Corrie into my life, I wouldn’t have connected with her without it. There is a saying that you have to say Yes to new experiences to be happy, I’d have to agree.
Enter the internet.
We connected on facebook shortly thereafter. I was training for the San Francisco Marathon, raising money for School on Wheels, and Mark began commenting and encouraging me as my runs got longer and I got faster. On June 28th, 2012 I sprained my ankle in a bad way on mile 10 of 19 the day I was leaving for a writing trip to Thibodaux, Louisiana to work on a new novella I still haven’t finished. I skipped the ER, got a wheelchair, and got on the plane. Armond Cheramie brought crutches when he picked me up from the airport. Instead of exploring small town Louisiana for my novella, I posted up on the sofa and crawled around Armond’s apartment. I sat on a stool to shower. I was miserable and everyone on the internet knew. Mark sent a message asking how I was doing. We began chatting often. My computer crashed. I posted my latest life’s frustration on facebook. Mark commented that he could help. That’s just the kind of person he is. He’s the kind of person who offers to help someone he hardly knows because they need it and he can.
Again, I totally didn’t think anything of it. I just thought she was someone who sounded like she needed help. Sure, it didn’t hurt that she’s gorgeous, but anyone who works so hard at running or anything else that they grew up thinking they couldn’t do has got my support. The pain of losing the ability to run was obvious. I couldn’t help with that, but computers? That I can help with.
A few days after I got home, he came to fix my computer, hard drive in hand. He had offered to pick one up for me because he knew crutches made getting around difficult and, again, that’s just the kind of person he is. When he arrived, I gave him my computer and he got to work. I lounged on the sofa while my dead computer suddenly decided to boot. We both laughed and I swore it was actually broken. Nonetheless, he began the backup process instead of the recovery process. It would take awhile so we sat and ate vegan strawberry cake I picked up from The Golden Mean, knowing he had a sweet tooth and wanting to show my gratitude somehow because he wouldn’t accept payment. We talked as the backup process began. We talked beyond its finish. We sat side by side on my sofa and it was the strangest thing in the world: not resting my head on his chest while we chatted felt like the most unnatural thing in the world which was the opposite of everything I had ever experienced. There was nothing awkward feeling about the idea. Still, it remained only an idea. I didn’t actually do it. We talked about everything real, everything the magazines and the internet tell you you’re not supposed to talk about with someone you, really, just met.
Five hours passed and energies began to wane. He laid on the floor and I on the sofa above him. We talked about happiness and what that looked like. We talked about integrity. We talked about giving, about what that truly means to each of us. Two more hours passed. We talked about how strange it felt that we were not cuddling. My computer was long done and I had to get up at my usual way-too-early-for-normal-people time. While he sat on the edge of my chaise, gathering his things, I noted how instinctive it felt to put my hand on his back. I didn’t. I said thank you. He said you’re welcome. He went home and I went to sleep.
It really was the strangest thing. It felt like I had known her forever and was comfortable talking about things I never talk about. Something about the way we chatted and sat together made it so easy. It felt like she should be cuddled next to me on the couch and we should take a nap while waiting for the hard drive to back up. I still have to remind her to back up all the time, so I’m pretty sure she’ll keep me around.
The next day, back on the internet, we chatted about how strange an experience we had each had the night before. This kind of openness and honesty was so refreshing for me. We decided we should spend more time together. “An experiment,” Mark called it. “Science,” I said. We decided on a day trip to Santa Barbara and a picnic. I decided to take a risk and make a suggestion. We had spent a long time talking about how much music meant to us both. “I have an idea,” I said nervously, “How about we each make a playlist of 10 songs that have been meaningful at different points in our lives or remind us of certain times? We can listen to one on the way up and one on the way back and talk about them!” He was in. I kind of couldn’t believe it. We each made a playlist.
Music is an amazing thing. It can tell an emotional story without any words. It can change your emotions with the right line or beat. Sharing your favorite music connects us in a way that nothing else can and it is a crazy, beautiful thing. If you are ever feeling crappy or sad, you can either go deeper down that path and live in those emotions with songs that help you process that or switch it up and help pull you out of it. That, and chocolate is always good. It was a great idea to combine music, a great drive, and more time to get to know each other.
We listened to his on the way up. We talked about his life. His hopes and dreams, his struggles and triumphs. When we arrived in Santa Barbara and got settled for our picnic (and more vegan strawberry cake) we sat on a picnic bench, side by side, looking at the ocean. He took my hand and I put my head on his shoulder; it fit perfectly. I told him I was afraid. “Why?” he asked. I told him I was afraid that his friends wouldn’t accept me or be supportive of us because him being single was so new. “I deserve to be happy now” he responded. That was one of the bravest things I have ever heard anyone say. We sat quietly, finished our picnic, he carried me to the car while I carried my crutches, and we got back on the road.
There was never any doubt in my mind that sharing my past and who I was when I was younger and who I thought I was now would be anything but a good idea. Our connection made that clear. I also knew that true friends just want you to be happy and healthy, the rest is just circumstance. I discovered just how tiny she is because I could easily pick her up and help her to the car when the crutches got to be too big of a pain. She was a bit chilly so I gave her my jacket while we ate. It was an amazing first date. If nothing else, I knew we would be friends forever. If lucky, we would be more.
We listened to my playlist on the way home. We talked about all of the things that brought me to where I was that day. I cried, a lot. I told him things I never told anyone so soon. I told him the things that made people run. He held my hand and told me those experiences must have been hard. “Yes,” I told him, “but I wouldn’t be here without them and there is no place I would rather be.”
And here we are.
And here we are.