Remember when you broke my halo
Remember I how I tied your wings in
Remember how we slipped all the lies we equipped
just to bring back the goods again.

Surrounded. Let’s romanticize our beloved memories.
Surrounded. Let’s demonize our softest injuries.
Surrounded. Can we get behind distortion and liberties.
Surrounded. We’re surrounded, spiraling.

~Silversun Pickups: Surrounded (Or Spiraling)

Then. On the morning of March 29, 2010, you would have found me awake, alert, and pondering.

You see, the day before I had met a man. Now, he was most certainly not the first man I had met for a first date, nor actually would he be the last. He was also not the first that I had met from match.com. And again, he would not be the last. But there was something about HIM that gave me pause. No, let me rephrase that…there was everything about him that gave me pause.

He showed up for brunch on that Sunday morning hungover, late, and very apologetic. Surprisingly this pretty man was also polite, interesting, and very charming. You could have called me smitten.

Remember when I saw you in orbit
Remember when I pulled you back in
Remember looking on breaking into the dawn
thinking how this will never end.

And so time began. We did not demand change of one another, rather we asked for the allowance of change. We both asked for what we needed, not for what we wanted. It was all raw and carnal and required need. When we couldn’t get what we needed, one of us left. And in time, one of us came back.

Remember when you were the hunted
Remember how I swallowed you in
Remember the rewards shimmering on the floor
off the plastic chandelier.

Now. March 30, 2013. You needed to break my halo. You needed to bust down my walls of self-importance and self-righteous independence. And one day you gently removed my halo from atop my head and you broke it. Not once, not twice, but into many little pieces. And I allowed this. Then you threw my pieces upon the ground, and you allowed me to pick them back up. And carefully I cupped the pieces of my halo in my hand, and tucked them deep into my pocket. Periodically, I yank one out and point it mightily at my moral compass and I shake its sharp edges vehemently at you. Time and time again, you gracefully pluck it from my fingers and you throw it back to the ground. I allow it; just as you allow me to retrieve it.

You didn’t force my halo of humility; you asked for it.

Surrounded. Let’s romanticize our beloved memories.
Surrounded. Let’s demonize our softest injuries.
Surrounded. Can we get behind distortion and liberties.
Surrounded. We’re surrounded, spiraling.

I in turn, needed the sanctity of your character. I did not wish to clip your wings, as I adore your free spirit and open-mind and sense of adventure. I crave your wickedness. But your character sometimes became distracted and diverted, and that causes my dissention. So I asked to tie back your wings, and you allowed it. Sometimes a wing pops free from its bindings, and I quickly yet mindfully guide it back in. And you allow this. Sometimes I watch as you wiggle and dance and loosen a wing just a tad. And this is allowed as well. More often than not, it is you that notices the feathers fighting to play in the wind, and it is you that smooth them down.

I didn’t demand your wings of character; I asked for them.

As with all relationships, we spiral up, we spiral down. In ways only known to us, we often spiral sideways. A wing pops up, and a shard of halo emerges. A spiral, a dance, a stumble, and we laugh victoriously.

We will not be one of those couples that turns everything into an Anniversary, but some dates are meant to be celebrated. Just as some halos are meant to be broken, and some wings are meant to be tied in. Happy first date. Happy Anniversary.