“It’s weird it’s you.”
That’s what we always say to each other, still unconvinced
it’s really each other woven so tightly into our present lives. You see, I met
my boyfriend, Jason, a little over 13 years ago. But I met him, really, in
November 2011.
For some of you, this is the first time you’ll be hearing
the real story. It’s strange and bizarre and yeah, maybe kind of lame. But it’s
also a ridiculous tale of chance, and who isn’t into that?
It all begins in 1999. I was 14, internet was dial up, and
printers were just stopping making some of the most god-awful noises you have
ever heard. Instant message systems were all the rage with teenagers (and sex
offenders – a classic mix), and the poison of me and my peers was ICQ.
ICQ had three defining features: 1) its classic UH-OH!
message tone, 2) its cheerful clip-arty flower symbol, and 3) its ability to
connect you with strangers through a “random chat” feature.
It was this random chat button that brought us to where we
are today.
As I was sitting at my parents’ computer in Vancouver,
likely building a Geocities site for shitty poetry, Jason was sitting at his parents’
computer in Kelowna, a city about 5 hours away. At 16 years old, he pressed
that random chat button, and guess who popped up on the other end? Me. Purely by a big swirling
cosmic chance.
I wish I remembered what we said for those first words. I
wish I remembered every conversation we ever had. (Though I wish I could forget
some of them, too).
But I know I knew one thing: whoever this person was, I
needed him to stick around, if only for just a little bit. 14 year old me
couldn’t even imagine the journey that random chat would take us on.
Jason and I couldn’t have been more different, and on many
levels we still can’t. The most defining difference is that he is Christian,
and I am very much not. Why does this matter, you ask? Because when we met he
thought my soul was in trouble and I needed saving. I thought he was sheltered and
needed liberating.
In a way, that one point of contention is our story; it’s been
a constant in our ever-changing relationship, and a dynamic that always ties us
together. My soul has needed a lot of saving, and there's been a lot of the world he needed to see.
And I wouldn’t change a thing.
Back in 1999, and for several years after, we talked all the
time. Daily. As much as we could about girlfriends, boyfriends, life,
everything, and most often – absolutely nothing. We didn’t even have pictures of ourselves, since digital cameras
weren’t for the masses yet.
When I was 15 I sent him a picture of myself. And guys, I
posed HARD. When we finally met, 11 years after I put that picture in the mail,
he brought it with him. He had kept it all those years.
It’s now on our fridge.
The thing is, when you talk to someone, just talk to them,
without history or hang-ups or anything that’s attached to actually physically knowing
someone in person, you have the opportunity to speak honestly, and to get to
know each other on a level that’s hard to explain. You become part of a
life-long conversation.
Over the years, our chats ebbed and flowed. We became busy
with our own lives, and occasionally didn’t talk for several months at a time.
But we were always there, and would pick back up again without missing a beat
when the time was right. For over a decade, people!
It’s hard to say what stopped us from meeting over the
years. A mix of geography, a treacherous highway, relationships, and just plain
nerves when we happened to be in each other’s cities are mainly to blame.
But that all started to change when Jason moved to
Vancouver, and we were definitely in the full swing of talking again.
One random rainy day in November 2011, I texted him that I had a
new temporary contract, my first full-time official writing gig, at an agency
downtown. As luck would have it, the office just happened to be a block from
his apartment. And as luck would have it, his bank was just below it. And as
luck would have it even more, he got home from work right as my shift
ended.
We agreed that if the world was trying to throw us together
at that moment, we were fools to go against it. So we went to Vancouver’s
colosseum-esque library to finally hang out.
And we haven’t separated since.
Of course, there’s more to the story. There’s been what
feels like a lifetime since, and the 12 years before it is hard to adequately sum up in such a small space. But all that matters is that I love him, even when
he leaves my kitchen a mess, smokes from time to time, and forgets to take out
the garbage. And he loves me, even when I treat the floor like it’s a closet,
sweat in his clothes when I'm sleeping, and am a strange mix of unsentimental and insecure.
Happy Valentine's Day!
