The initial swig

When we first met, I was on crutches after suffering a nasty fall. He invited me out on a date, but I'm not sure if it was love at first sight or simply my fantasy.

Paul was his name. He was tall, had straight, black hair, and had olive complexion that gave him the appearance that he had just gotten off a plane after a vacation in the sun.

The original concept was for us to meet up in the city and dine at a classy, romantic restaurant. The inclement weather put a stop to it, so we had to use plan B. Around 7 o'clock, Paul would arrive at my house, pick me up, and then we would go to a casual restaurant — nothing fancy. Better than eating nothing at all, I told myself.

Here's the greatest part: Before lunch, he gave me a call and said, "Wait for it..."

I looked outdoors prior to his speaking. It was strongly snowing. Really, it snowed a lot. a genuine snowstorm I sat there contemplating, "Okay, let's hear it." Another reason for the cancellation.

Sorry, but the weather is awful right now. In the dark, driving would be risky.

I groan hard and prepare to move.

"I'm sorry, but I will need to arrive much sooner than anticipated. Is it okay if I arrive before 3 o'clock?

I finally let out the air I'd been holding in at that point. I didn't mind that he arrived early, that much is certain. However, I hadn't even had a shower or washed my hair at that moment. You ought to have noticed me. When I was using the crutches, I moved quickly. As I prepared, pain was less important than getting ready.

I was prepared when the doorbell rang. I wore some decent tops and pants as we weren't heading anyplace special. It didn't take long for us to realize that the poor weather meant we wouldn't be going anyplace at all. It was a mystery how he had gotten to my house. Later, he revealed to me that he was raised in a region with snow blizzards as high as six feet. So, while it was unpleasant to him, it wasn't severe enough to prevent him from driving to my house.

We decided to have a conversation indoors for our own protection. He urged me to sit down and put my feet up when I went into the kitchen to grab something to eat for the two of us. He returned to the kitchen to finish cooking dinner after bringing me a lovely cup of hot tea. My heart pounded faster. Oh no, it wasn't because I was in love. No more pointless romances or infatuations, I had already promised myself. If I didn't fully understand what I was entering into, no man would ever win my heart again. If there was ever another relationship, I was going to enter it cautiously and gently.

return to supper. I mean, staying home had not been the idea, had it? I scarcely had any food in the house. What then was the man planning to cook?

He immediately prepared a straightforward lunch, which was delicious. He volunteered to drive me to the store to fill up after I apologized for the lack of food, and he did so (in that snow). When we got back, Dad made another supper without letting me help.

When he said that dinner was ready, I realized why. He had lighted two red candles while turning out the lights in the dining area. He assisted me in pulling out the chair, sat down, and poured me a glass of Merlot before leaving.

We both realized we wanted to be together sometime between the first taste and the final drop of the wine. It resembled how a hand would neatly fit into a cream-colored glove. Paul was eager to inform everyone. He appeared to have won the jackpot, almost. Oh my God, I didn't realize males got as thrilled about these things as we do, I recall thinking as I sat there.

He posted images and a relationship announcement on Facebook in less than a day. You are aware that there is no way to spread the word more quickly. Within a few hours, we had invites and congratulations from relatives and friends all around the world. When was the last time I felt this joyful? My life erupted. I genuinely did.

I try to spend as much time as I can with Paul, especially on the weekends. He gets me chocolate and flowers. He takes excellent care of me. You're not used to having things done for you, are you, he adds. He won't even let me push the grocery cart, telling me to remember that you have a man to take care of things for you.

He allows me to sleep in on the weekends so he can feed me breakfast in bed. Together, we go shopping, watch movies, read books, take long drives in the country, and pause at adorable small cafés for lattes and chocolate fudge cakes. We take in music. He enjoys R&B as I do. The Sunscreen Song appeals to him. Along with The Missing Piece and The Giving Tree, it's a catchy song with a message. We have fun, play games, and try with different foods.

He shot a pheasant one weekend, let it hang for a week, and then cooked it for us. It was scrumptious. When he bought oysters for me, I had my first taste of them. He then cleaned the shells. They are on view in my living room.

He uses special oils that contain ginger to give me the most incredible massages. Other times, he gives my nails a thorough manicure and a coat of paint.

He contacted me one Friday to arrange to pick me up from work because he wouldn't be using the car. I should note right now how much I used to despise motorcycle riders. I despised the way they would swerve through traffic and occasionally just materialize out of thin air, completely catching you off guard. My first trip on it would be on that Friday. I could not imagine pedaling a bicycle for the full 20 kilometers! NO! I gave justifications and took the train instead. I came up with an explanation even after he offered to take me up from the tube station like he always does.

There was no way I was going to get away since we often went grocery shopping on Friday evenings. That night, I had my first encounter. Not awful at all. By the end of the weekend, I was an experienced bike passenger, adjusting my posture to match his. It's a talent. When others observed us donning our helmets and hopping onto the bike, I felt incredibly awesome. I now have the utmost regard for bikers. In reality, I observe the type of bike they are riding, just like I used to observe the types and models of vehicles.

On occasion, when we're out and about, someone may remark, "What a nice pair." He enjoys that. While we are walking, if I put my hands in my pockets, he will say, "Hey, I'm missing something," and when I ask what, he would reply, "Your hand." He loves to keep my hand in his pocket while putting it in his coat.

A few weeks ago, he accompanied me to the tube station early in the morning as usual. I believe this is yours, he remarked as he brought out a parcel from the car before getting out to open the door for me. He stopped me mid-sentence as I started to object by handing me a jewelry box holding a stunning silver wristwatch.

You may be thinking right now, "Wow, he sounds great." He is, but he is also human, thus he is not flawless. He will sometimes remark, "Sweetheart, please don't dispute with me," when we don't always agree on anything. When I inquire as to why not, he will respond, "Because you'll win!"

That is, unless he offers me a glass of Merlot.