starting the weekend right

We've known each other for 16 years and we've never been alone together, not ever. We worked together for six years and he's one of the smartest, funniest, coolest guys I know. I've always felt that he saw me as a silly little sister, that he never considered me romantically. He was there when a chair hit my front tooth during Public Enemy's set at our company conference. He called the cab and drew the chalk outline around my body when I "fell asleep" on the sidewalk in front of the Schmucklerfest. He was there when the women in our company were vicious and cruel to me, unwavering and reassuring in his assertion that they were "jealous of everything about you". He ignored the top ten list a co-worker published of men in the music industry that I was rumored to have slept with, including my boss. He was at some of the more infamous penthouse parties, like the one where the Weekly did a write-up on the orgy and named names. He is one of my favorite people and we stopped being colleagues ten years ago.

We were at Cole's this past Friday because the Groovy Rednecks were playing. At least that's what we told ourselves. I think we didn't care who was playing, it was stumbling distance and we didn't want anything complicated like going to Firecracker in Chinatown, or taking the Metro for a pub crawl to Pasadena, or doing any of the million things happening on Friday night that would take our attention away from us being alone together for the first time ever. He told me I was crazy (in a good way) and never boring. He was stunned that I remembered all his jokes, the names of the people in all his stories, and every compliment he ever paid me. When his hand brushed my knee I felt the electricity all the way up my spine and back down into my pants. I'm glad we both finally found courage.