Time is such a crazy little critter.

Everyone who’s ever had to get up at the ass crack of dawn for work, to celebrate an anniversary, to declare someone dead gets it.

And while I’ve always thought of myself as being pretty good about time—real life time and gay time (gays, you know what I’m talking about)—it’s shocking how quickly it can get away from me, slip between my mental frames.

Then slap me across the face two weeks after my last blog post. (Yes, I know I’m a slack blogger.)


It’s jarring how suddenly time can collapse yet encompass innumerable life experiences; it boggles the mind how chocked-full those collapsed lapses can be.

This thought was sandwiched between a few others as Andy, his sister Lindsey, and I commuted back from a whirlwind Thanksgiving trip to their hometown of Pleasantville, and a jaunt to New York City.

Sure, the bracketing thoughts may have been a little catty given the expected stress-fueled spats that bubble out when three adults are packed into a Prius, along with all necessary accoutrements (and by “necessary” I mean two gays over-packing and attempting to convince Lindsey that there will probably be enough oxygen left in the backseat for her to breathe); are exhausted by idiotic drivers (driver of the Honda Odyssey, who couldn’t quite grasp the concept of cruise control, I remember you); and are forced to use rest area porta potties due to the “mass volume” of users (while blinding our minds’ eyes against the disturbing mental images associated with using “porta potty” and “mass volume” together.)   

So, despite the fact that Andy and I were fuming over something that now escapes me, I still couldn’t believe where I was and how fortunate I was to be there.


A year prior, I’d been quietly ruminating about why it was that I had so many wonderful friends and family surrounding me, but felt I was missing out on something great.

Six months later, when I was stressed, exhausted, smelly, and, quite literally, a hot mess, I met him. The him him I’d be thinking about and telling myself I hadn’t been searching for over the past few years.

But there he was.

Just like that.


He’d just dropped into my life.

And I cringed about how the trite yet apropos “when you least expect it” cliché happened to be.


Nearly six more months later, Andy and I have blown through the honeymoon period, navigated the consolidation of two households, argued here and there and made up, met the parents, and settled into a life together that’s only gotten more development, more grounded, and more rooted every single day.

Even still, it’s hard for me to imagine how delightfully quickly my life has changed.

Sure, time is still a beast, and there’re plenty of friends and family with whom we’d both like to spend more time. But we’re still balancing the personal with the professional, and trying not to let our extreme commutes and stressful jobs get the best of us.

And acknowledging that it’s okay to take time for ourselves, to grow our relationship more and more without guilt.

And knowing that our friends and family understand this, and love that we’re happy.

Because for so long, time was an enemy—reminding us of what we didn’t have. Now, though, it’s cherished, crystallized in moments along a path to an unknown future.

And while time isn’t infinite, and we never know what’ll happen next, we do know that we’ll each have a hand to hold along the way.


That we’re in it together.

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