A. and I went out for dinner on June 9, the anniversary of the day we met. It’s been twelve awesomesauce years.

A. left at one point, and I sat there happily munching away on some homemade sour dough bread. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw this super hot guy. And he was walking toward our table, presumably to sit with an equally attractive partner at the table behind us or something.

I looked up to check him out because, well, just because I’m not ordering doesn’t mean I can’t look at the menu, right?

It was A.

A. was the hot guy.

Man alive, but my life rocks.