The other day, I started to type a word into the address bar in my internet browser, and for reasons unknown, a long email exchange I once had with my best friend popped up. It was dated September 10, 2013, and it was titled “Mosquito bite on earlobe.” Katie and I email a lot, and about a lot of things, ranging from big life decisions to something as small as, say, an oddly placed mosquito bite, so I had no idea what to expect when I started reading. That date didn’t ring any bells for me, nor did the subject line. But when I started reading, that day came flying back with alarming clarity.
That was the day that I decided to have The Talk with Scott. I had planned on calling him out for sending me mixed messages about where he stood with our relationship. I had no idea that I had just done literally the exact same thing to him a few days before.
We had been together only a few months at the time, but things had already started getting pretty serious. He kept offhandedly mentioning stuff about our future or maybe having a wedding someday, but every time I tried to get him to admit how serious he was about such things, he’d become evasive or start dropping a bunch of “maybes.” As a person with high levels of anxiety, I was so not cool with “maybe.” At the same time, I didn’t want to be all, “SO, we’ve known each other a couple of months. You wanna marry me or what?” Because that’s crazy. I felt like I was on a roller coaster, and I was not digging it. I was starting to feel emotionally invested in this person and this relationship, but I didn’t know if it was safe to do so. I couldn’t give someone my whole heart and then watch him walk away. I just didn’t have it in me. But, whether or not I was ready to admit it, I was feeling the feels. I just didn’t want to be the first to say it.
Turns out, neither did he.
A few weeks earlier and about one month into our relationship, Scott drank my body weight in German beer at his birthday celebration at the Hofbräuhaus and told me he loved me. We were saying goodbye to friends at the end of the night, and he drunkenly hugged everyone and told them that he loved them. I laughed and made sure no one fell over onto the pavement. Then he turned to me and said, “And I love you…” Sober and blindsided, I believe my exact response was, “Ummmmmmmm…..okay?” I had only known the guy for 63 days. I was not expecting such a declaration, and I had no idea whether or not he meant it. The next day, I turned to research for help. Fortuitously, that month’s Cosmo had an article on how to handle the accidental, alcohol-induced, amnesia-erased “I love you.” They recommended that I first ask myself whether or not I wanted him to mean it. If the answer was yes, then I was supposed to talk to him about it. If the answer was no, I was supposed to forget it ever happened. They didn’t tell me what to do if I was unsure, which is what I was. Even though hearing those words made my heart beat faster, I wasn’t ready to have that conversation – or specifically, to find out that he didn’t actually mean them – so I didn’t say anything. He didn’t say it again, so after a couple of weeks, I figured he probably didn’t mean it. I decided I should try to forget it happened.
But I couldn’t stop thinking about it.
Every time we saw each other after that, I couldn’t stop myself from wondering, Does he love me? Am I ready to let myself love him? Should we spend the rest of our lives together? These are not normal thoughts for someone who’s only known a guy for just over two months, but then again, I’ve never exactly been normal.
Six weeks later, I was preparing to co-host my first Oktoberfest. I was exceptionally nervous. The scene was as follows: A huge, expensive gathering with all of our family and friends, and the two of us in the center of it all, wearing special ceremonial outfits. Does that sound like any other major event you know? For an English major like me, the whole thing was rife with symbolism. And since I still hadn’t brought up the drunken “I love you” and he hadn’t said it again, I wasn’t sure how I felt about the wedding-like scenario I was about to walk into. But that day, when I stepped out into the yard and saw him, the happiest guy in the world, dressed in full Oktoberfest regalia and manning the grill like a boss, I knew.
Suddenly, I wasn’t nervous or unsure anymore. I loved him, plain and simple. I could barely keep the words in my mouth, but I still wasn’t ready to say them. Or so I thought.
Apparently, at some point during the course of the day, after I had enjoyed my fair share of German beer, I told Scott that I loved him. Legend has it that the confession happened in the garage and that he told me that he loved me, too. I’ll have to trust him on that because, to this day, my brain says “404: Memory not found.”
Oktoberfest that year took place on September 7, three days before I decided to pluck up some courage and have The Talk. For those few days, I knew I loved him, but I didn’t know I told him, and I knew that he had once told me he loved me, but I didn’t know if he meant it. But instead of just telling him bravely and having faith that he would say it back, I cowardly backed my way into it via a text message in a not wholly un-accusatory manner.
In short, our conversation went like this:
Me: Look, I don’t know if you know this, but you once told me you loved me when you were drunk.
Scott: Oh yeah? You did too.
Me: Really? When?
Scott: At Oktoberfest.
Me: I did?
Scott: Yeah.
Me: Oh. So, we love each other?
Scott: Yeah.
Me: Cool.
We were both stupidly in love with each other, but we were both stupidly scared to say it out loud. Neither of us wanted to be the first to admit our feelings for fear that the other wouldn’t reciprocate. Looking back, it was so dumb. I sometimes wonder what would have happened if liquid courage hadn’t coaxed the truth out of us. How long would we have waited? Where would we be now?
Of all the decisions people could make while under the influence, I’m really glad we made that one. And I’ll be happier still, in 304 days, when we put on special ceremonial outfits and stand in front of our family and friends and admit out loud again that we really do love each other. This time, we both might even remember it.
Not living up to expectations 