It was Monday

I love Mondays. I know, weird.

Everybody hates Mondays. It's the beginning of a stressful week, the start of an enormous workload, and the first day of a long week of getting up before the Sun does. Everybody dreads Mondays; people run around like tiny ants, preoccupied with not being late or having done all the work they needed to do. But Wednesdays or Tuesdays aren't any better.

I appreciate Mondays. They feel like another chance to create something great, to start over, to live. Mondays taste fresh and unique.

Every important event in my life has happened on a Monday. I was born on a Monday, I got my driver's license on a Monday, I met my best friend on a Monday, I got promoted in my job on a Monday, and I hugged my niece for the first time on a Monday.

So it's no surprise that this story happened on a Monday. After all, Monday is the best day of the week.

All my Mondays look the same. The first thing I do is going to the gym and eating breakfast. It helps me keep centred and fills me with energy. I then go to work, quickly eat lunch with my colleagues, and attend one too many meetings. I come back home, walk my lovely dog, put some loud and intense music on, and have a hot shower. After that, I take a big glass and a bottle of wine, always Merlot, and make my way up to the living room.

I like drinking wine, it makes me feel relaxed and at ease.

You should know that I am a very methodical person. I always turn my phone off when I get home. I don't like to be bothered with work and drama after a day filled with exactly that.

I always brush my teeth the same way. Thirty seconds up, thirty seconds down, thirty seconds left, thirty seconds right, thirty seconds front, thirty seconds back. Always three minutes.

I always choose what clothes I will wear the day before, and I lay my shoes in a perfect line. Not one inch to the right, not one inch to the left.

I always eat at the same time. Seven past twenty-three for breakfast. Eleven to one for lunch. Eight past seventeen for dinner. And I always walk my dog at the same time at night, a quarter to ten.

I always take a shower with the water at 98 degrees Fahrenheit. 37 degrees celsius. And I never go to bed without drinking eleven ounces of water.

But that Monday was different. I came home at five past eleven, as always, and after a hot steamy shower and a glass of Merlot I took Marshall out for a walk.

I had begun to drift off to somewhere I like to call 'The perfect Monday world' as a stranger interrupted my imaginary glass of imaginary wine on my private beach.

"Hey" - he said.

"Hey" - I replied.

But what started as a simple and mundane conversation turned into a rather witty dialogue, which is one of my favorite things in the world. So after twenty minutes of weird puns and lame jokes he asked me if I would like to go out sometime. I didn't know what to say. My mind started going through hundreds of scenarios in the span of just seconds.

It had to be a Monday. Every important event in my life happens on a Monday. And meeting the love of my life was no different.

I'm getting ahead of myself. What if he doesn't like Mondays? What if he brushes his teeth for one minute? What if he hates dogs? Wait, he has a dog. But what if he doesn't enjoy color coordinating his food in the fridge? Or what if he despises planning things one month in advance? What if he is a murderer?

Alicia, stop.

For some reason, I said yes, he smiled, got my phone number and left. I got home and poured myself another glass of Merlot. Who am I? Merlot after 9 p.m sounded crazy. But my mind didn't want to stop. I spent the next three hours going through made-up plots in my head.

We meet next Monday at seven past eighteen in the corner of 15th street with 128th. He is wearing a nice pair of shoes, black pants, and a shirt. Not too casual, not too fancy. I am wearing my red dress and black heels. The ones from my first day at work. We then walk to the restaurant because it was only twelve minutes from where we met.

Twelve minutes was the perfect time to determine whether he was a serial killer or a potential match to my crazy. Twelve minutes that would decide the next step. Fake call from my sister or genuine smile. I had twelve minutes.

After he passes the first test, we enter the restaurant and sit next to the window. It's the perfect spot. It's not too crowded, not as transited as the tables next to the kitchen or the entrance, and the view is pretty delightful. We look at the menu and strike a conversation about how the salmon with a side of salad sounds way better than the roasted beef. We look at the wines, my favorite part. He drinks Merlot, just like me.

A match made in heaven.

We order our food and talk. For dessert I order tiramisu, but it's too big for my full stomach and he finishes it. I love it. He loves it. He offers to pay but we split the bill. We leave the restaurant and start walking home. He gives me his jacket because I'm cold and I didn't bring any.

Rookie mistake. Or not.

When he gets to the corner of 15th street and 128th street he kisses me goodbye. What a wonderful Monday. We make plans for the next Monday. I go home.

That week felt eerie. Even though I was doing the same dull work as always, I couldn't get that date out of my mind. I thought about him when I brushed my teeth, when I took Marshall out for a walk, and even while I drank my glass of Merlot.

But the day finally came. It was Monday, seven o'clock, as I made my way to the corner of 15th street with 128th street. I waited there for less than a minute, and then I saw him.

Punctual. I like that.

He was wearing black jeans and a shirt, paired with a fancy pair of shoes; just like I had imagined. As he walked up to me a little smile appeared on my lips. Was I actually excited about this date?

We walked towards the restaurant whilst striking a rather charming conversation. He told me about his sister and nephew, about how he has travelled all over the world, and how he owns two dogs.

Yes, dogs. He passed the first test.

We arrived at the restaurant and sat down. The location was excellent, the music was splendid, the smell was extraordinary. After a couple of minutes, we began to look at the wine menu. While reading that list, a wine caught my eye: Chateau L'Arrosee. I know that wine well because it comes with my Bright Cellars subscription every month. It is my favorite one.

After a while, we decided to go with the Chateau L'Arrosee, with delicate notes of Black Currant, Blackberry, Cassis, and Vanilla-tinged Tobacco. Excellent choice. We then started looking at the menu, and there it was, salmon with a side of salad.

Jackpot.

But as we were discussing how great salmon is, we overheard a conversation between a couple that couldn't seem to get enough of calling Monday 'The worst day of the week'. I wasn't shocked, Monday is like the epitome of despised things. For many, it is like that one nightmare that you can't stop dreaming about, no matter how much you try to avoid it.

It was at that moment when I looked right at that couple and made a face. My date caught that. And what he said after that, I still have trouble believing.

"Call me weird, but I actually enjoy Mondays" he decisively said.

"It's the perfect opportunity to start something" we both screamed at the same time.

I think I'm in love.

Alicia, stop.

We quickly laughed and went on to talk about Mondays for 30 minutes straight. What a dream.

Our wine and food arrived. I didn't know heaven smelled so good. We talked for well over three hours, and when the check came, my mind started rushing again.

I like paying for my part of the meal. I always pay for my part of the meal. It makes me feel independent. So when he offered to pay I refused.

We split the check.

We slowly walked to the corner in which we had met at the beginning of the night. I had a little too much to drink, but I remember that moment perfectly. I could clearly hear my heart beating through my dress.

And right when we arrived, he grabbed me by the waist and slowly pushed me towards him. I put my hands on his chest and stood even closer.

We kissed.

As I pulled back to go home and call it a perfect night, he said something.

"Will I see you next Monday?"

"You will." - I quickly replied.

And there I stood, watching as he walked into the dark and wishing that it was Monday all over again.