It was 2004, and I was in my second year of college. My life was a little...of course.
Oh sure, my figure skating career was taking off, and I was finally starting to get over my broken engagement to Channing Tatum.
I found myself walking around a lot holding a book up against my chest, wearing a large winter cap, and looking down a lot.
That was when he found me.
Ryan.
He was filming a movie downtown called "Gritty Meth Addict," which would later win an Independent Spirit Award.
In it, he played a gritty meth addict who discovers that his sister is adopted...or imaginary.
I was shopping for vegetables at a vegetable market when we made eyes at each other from across the bodega.
It was...magical.
He asked me out for coffee and before I knew it we were having conversations on stoops and walking down streets while wondering whether or not we could trust each other and shuffling our feet while only occasionally making eye contact and mumbling.
Those were the best three days of my life.
Finally, he proposed.
I didn't know what to say. I flashbacked to our long walk on the beach and the tender lovemaking in really bad lighting and the monologues about our abusive fathers, and I...
I just couldn't do it.
I wasn't ready to love yet.
Cut to me sitting in my apartment seven years later watching the Golden Globe nominations.
(Just to be clear, NOT the Oscar nominations, or the Independent Spirit Award nominations, or the--You know what? Never mind.)
And there he is--or at least, his picture.
Right there in that little square.
"That's right, Ryan" I said, "That's right."
And I know somewhere, he was smiling.
Oh sure, my figure skating career was taking off, and I was finally starting to get over my broken engagement to Channing Tatum.
I found myself walking around a lot holding a book up against my chest, wearing a large winter cap, and looking down a lot.
That was when he found me.
Ryan.
He was filming a movie downtown called "Gritty Meth Addict," which would later win an Independent Spirit Award.
In it, he played a gritty meth addict who discovers that his sister is adopted...or imaginary.
I was shopping for vegetables at a vegetable market when we made eyes at each other from across the bodega.
It was...magical.
He asked me out for coffee and before I knew it we were having conversations on stoops and walking down streets while wondering whether or not we could trust each other and shuffling our feet while only occasionally making eye contact and mumbling.
Those were the best three days of my life.
Finally, he proposed.
I didn't know what to say. I flashbacked to our long walk on the beach and the tender lovemaking in really bad lighting and the monologues about our abusive fathers, and I...
I just couldn't do it.
I wasn't ready to love yet.
Cut to me sitting in my apartment seven years later watching the Golden Globe nominations.
(Just to be clear, NOT the Oscar nominations, or the Independent Spirit Award nominations, or the--You know what? Never mind.)
And there he is--or at least, his picture.
Right there in that little square.
"That's right, Ryan" I said, "That's right."
And I know somewhere, he was smiling.
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