When you know, you know.

“When did you know?” she asks me. Light and shadows dance on her face–the candle hotly anticipating the gossip.

“Know what?”

“That you loved me,” she says. The words race out of her with child-like zeal. She’s been holding onto them. Waiting for the chance. The jig is sprung!

“Oh, that’s easy,” I say before taking a big gulp of my beer.

***

It’s a quarter past 8. The little bar at Auden’s Kitchen is empty, save the wait staff running about like worker ants tending to their sections. It’s almost closing time.

The shades are drawn. The lights have been reduced to something below mood lighting but above closed darkness. The TVs are off. The kitchen is quiet. It’s that perfect calm before we rush from what was to what is.

Bzzzzz

My phone jumps on the metal cash register behind me.

Bzzzz

“Be there in 10 minutes,” the text says. “Bringin’ a friend.”

“Don’t bring your date here,” I start to type…

Bzzz

“She’s cute,” the next message reads. “You’ll like her.”

DELETE. DELETE. DELETE.

“Hurrry uP,” I slap erratically at the keys. “We close soon.”

The bar is lustrous. The barely flickering overhead lights cast a bouncing glow around the room like sparks. My stomach feels heavy. A toad-sized lump wells up in my throat. I’ll have to get that looked at. It’s probably not serious. Right? I have to pee. I JUST peed. A tingle, like a thousand tiny pinpricks, tip-toes up my back.

“Dooling,” an obnoxious voice announces from the door.

I gulp — the toad croaks. My stomach tightens up. The lights get ahold of themselves just long enough to let the real sparks fly.

You’re tall. That’s the first thing I notice. “I’m like, six foot….” I think to myself. Long brown hair frames your soft, round face. A reluctant smile pushes back at the corners of your mouth.

Are you shy? Or did I already bomb the first looks?

Then you’re at my bar, pulling out the stool, talking to our mutual friend, contemplating drinks and food, but all I hear is “wubba wub wub wub wubba” and it ain’t because I’m deaf as a doornail.

“Get us some drinks, Dooling.” And we already have a third wheel. A permanent third wheel. But we just met.

“Whatcha want?” I ask our mutual acquaintance. Her name is Laura. You call her Little. I call her Balls. None of this makes sense. Does it have to?

You both order light beers or something with vodka — whatever people fresh out of college were drinking those days.

“Can we get some food,” Balls asks. She talks so much. We both already knew this. It’s just never been this obvious or unwanted.

We run through the menu. Nothing sounds good to you. But you somehow let me convince you to have the clips and blue cheese. Why? Neither of you likes blue cheese. This is off to a fantastic start.

“Busy night?” Balls asks, looking around accusingly.

“Had a circus of clowns in here all night,” I say. “They just left. It was a bitch getting the face paint off the beer mugs.”

Your eyes light up.

“You’re so full of shit,” our third wheel again.

She keeps talking, and I keep trying to act like I am not checking you out, but I am, and I wonder if you’re checking me out, but I can’t tell because you’re so much better at this oh my god, you are gorgeous and you won’t even look at me because I am like swamp thing in the presence of fairy tale royalty…

“DOOLING…”

Round and round the wheel goes.

“Where’s our food?”

So I go get the food and do my best server impression. Then I go back for the silverware. Then I go back for napkins. Then I go back to ensure I haven’t forgotten anything else. All the while second-guessing everything about myself down to the angle of my toes.

“Need anything else?” I ask, sweat beading on my hairline.

“Where’s the restroom,” you ask. I pause, memorizing your voice, staring a little too long.

“DOOLING”

“Just around that corner,” I point.

You stand up. You’re so tall. Not graceful, but intentional. You’re not a storybook princess. You’re real. Your walk has a unique gait. It’s timid, but damned if it will be stopped. You disappear around a corner.

Is there ever a microscope so powerful as the one we view ourselves and our partners through?

“So, what do you think?” our friend, Balls, asks.

I take a beat. I look at your leather jacket slung over the back of your chair. Your lipstick on the tall beer glass. I retrace your walk across the empty dining area.

“I think that’s my wife,” I reply.

Her eyes light up, and a smile spreads across her face, pinching at the corners of her mouth.

***

“Shut up,” you tell me, the candlelight making your eyebrows dance. “That’s not true.”

“Of course, it’s true. When you know, you know.”

***

It’s been almost 13 years since that night. Since a good friend played cupid and earned my eternal thanks and gratitude. Since I saw you strutting in your little skirt and boots getup. Since you sat at my bar, and I assaulted your tongue with chips and blue cheese. Since you whooped my ass at ping-pong which I (not accidentally) left out of this story.

Since I knew you were the one.

3 cities, 4 houses, and 2 kids later. We’ve been through a grinder. Life has gotten a lot more complicated. So much has changed. But not the way I feel about you or the love between us. I knew then, immediately.

Every day is a warm reminder.