Falling in love with Adam took one kiss.

I tried to rationalize.

I could see dating him ...
I could see something casual ...
I could see something fun ...

But it was beyond that. It was whammo. I'd fallen, and I would never quite get back up again. I fell in love beyond anything I'd ever previously experienced. And he wasn't mine to have.

So I dated. I dated nice guys, professionals, smart and charming and interesting. Guys who were challenging, funny, and available. I told him about each one and he would just smile or laugh and I would think does he care?

Then things changed.

I was nearing my 30th birthday and I'd decided to stop fucking around. I got into grad school. I got my career shit together. I started caring about who I was and how I was treated.

Our friendship got rocky. We fought. Finally we had a heated phone conversation in which he told me "Fuck you!" and if I hadn't been sitting, I would've fallen down with surprise.

Then I stopped talking to him. For three weeks he called and text messaged. For three weeks I ignored him.

Then I sold my car. I sold the 1987 Toyota Celica, white with a frayed black convertible top, that he'd loved to drive. I'd bought my Corolla. The Celica was old news. I emailed him to let him know.

I sold it, I wrote. I figured there was no point in keeping two around.

Soon he fell too.

There is no explaining how much fucking work -- and just plain magic -- has gone into this relationship. I loved him before he was mine to love, and I still love him with everything I have. I have no business expecting anyone other than us to understand this, but I still keep hoping.