Today I was driving over to the rental house to do a landlord task (Boy oh boy, do I just love being a landlord. And for the record, I had a goal to own property before I turned 30, but not two properties).
The rental house was our first home together for about two months before we bought my current house. And before I was a part of Roger's life, it was his first house.
Like every part of every day, driving over there reminded me of a million memories of the many rides to that house - Roger's house. I was specifically reminded of the first time I drove over there.
There are two versions of the night when Roger and I stopped being just friends and started dating.
Mine of course is right and Roger's of course is wrong.
And since he is no longer here, I get to tell my version. I will add some parts of his but I will let you know where he was wrong.
Roger and I talked online everyday as I have mentioned.
It started almost immediately after our first meeting and stopped the day before the accident. So almost three years of almost daily conversations via IM. Sometimes we even IMed at home from across the house or jokingly across the sides of the sofa.
During the first two months of our friendship, we talked a lot about ourselves, the daily grind, and the people we were seeing.
Roger was seeing this really young girl and I was seeing a roommate of a friend of mine.
On this day in the turning point in our relationship, I had been in an all day work meeting with no internet access and thus no access to Roger.
Immediately after work, I met up with friends, including the guy I was seeing, at a bar to watch Monday night football and have dinner.
This bar happened to be on the East side of town.
As I left the bar, with a quick peck with that roommate guy, I started thinking about Roger. Bad sign (at least for the roommate guy).
I missed Roger.
I missed talking with Roger.
Roger lived on the East side of town.
I was on the East side of town.
So I just called Roger up to see if he was home.
My excuse, I wanted to see his house since I was on his side of town. He had been offering me to see it constantly as part of his incessant flirting.
Now, when I say his side of town, I should admit that I was probably about twenty minutes from Roger's house. Not exactly "in the neighborhood."
Roger did not pick up the first time. "Okay, I'll try again."
I anxiously called again at the point of the route where I would need to turn.
He was extremely surprised and excited and I'm sure racing around his house to clean up.
He gave me directions about half way to his house since I could not drive and write down directions simutaneously.
Roger would say, it was the middle of the night.
It was not the middle of the night.
It was about 9pm. The middle of the night would have been midnight. It was not midnight.
I got to the gate to his community.
I could not get the gate open with the code he gave me.
I was about to turn around and go home.
"Maybe it was not meant to be" ran through my head.
I called Roger again.
He told me "Stay right there. I'm coming to get you."
And boy did he get me.
He pretty much stole me.
And I think I got him. He did not even eat dinner that night. It sat wasted in the oven.
I knew that I liked Roger more than just friends after a gentle kiss.
What I called a kissing lesson and he begged to differ.
He was a good kisser. I can't agrue with that but at least I liked to give him a hard time about it.
Everytime we told this story to people, Roger always would point out "She came in the middle of the night" and I would say "No way." And it became just a part of our story.
Sometimes he would say it just randomly as we were driving in the car.
Sometimes he would say it to break the tension during a fight.
And dear, it was not the middle of the night. Although I guess I can let you have that. For today.