I will never understand how one disastrous date, a year ago, led to this.

I mean, we’re not talking your run of the mill bad first date here. This was a date so epically terrible that most people would prefer eating glass or being lit on fire, rather than see that person again.

For starters, he was late. So late in fact, that I was asked to move from our amazing table, complete with romantic view of the river, to a seat at the bar so the non-loser patrons could have the table.

To this day, I question why I didn’t leave at that very second. But, the bastard finally showed up, a grand total of two and a half hours late. Believe me, I was furious. Especially when he laughed at me for being stupid enough to sit around and wait on him.

But, he apologized, got us an amazing table, and he was slowly inching his way back toward my good graces. Naturally, that is when all hell decided to break loose.

I could forgive the red wine that he spilled smack dab in the crotch of my white skirt. I was even willing to overlook the fact that the moron forgot his wallet and I had to pay for dinner. However, two things took place that I probably should have murdered him for, right then and there.

I am not a fan of food that is looking at me. If it still has a face, I can’t eat it. So, I’m sure you can imagine the absolute meltdown I had when a golden brown duck was placed on the table, and it was looking right at me.

I’m pretty sure he did it on purpose. Because this is Justin we’re talking about, and the guy’s an asshole like that. But, he was polite enough to have the waiter bring yet another duck, this time with no face.

The icing on this complete shitshow is that Justin neglected to tell me this duck was marinated in some sort of peanut glaze. And you’ll never guess what I’m allergic to. (note the sarcasm there, but if I’m being to subtle… I’m allergic to peanuts.)

It wasn’t until my face began to swell and my throat closed up that I realized what had happened. So, to make a long, painful story short, my first official date with Justin was spent in the emergency room.

See… I always knew that dating Justin would probably result in some poor girls untimely death. I just never expected it to be mine. (Ok, yeah… I know I didn’t die, but I almost did. So.. There.)

Now, you’d think any sane woman would have stayed far, far away from him after that. And I wanted to, but for some reason, just like the millions of times he tortured me as a kid, I went right back for more.

“You know… I should be in the studio, preparing more sweet ass tunes for the world, not helping you move your shit.”

Ah, my knight in asshole armor.

“And I could be a single, sane woman. Can’t always get what we want, can we?” I smirk at him and place several more books into a large cardboard box. “Can you get that small one over there? I know it’s little, but it’s actually very heavy.”

“So I’m being used for my braun… thanks Nor.”

“You sure as shit aren’t here for your brains.” I mutter and move to finish my packing.

I’m sure you assumed that since we’re officially an item, that we’d be a bit nicer to us, but no such luck. We still mock each other constantly, Trace still lives to torment the hell out of me, and I still think Justin has terrible hair.

The only difference now is that I forgive him when he makes fun of me, mostly because he’s pretty and I kind of like kissing him.

“Nor… this one isn’t heavy. I think it’s empty. See?” He shakes the box roughly and I roll my eyes as papers are suddenly scattered all over the floor.

“Wrong box. I meant the one on the right. You can just shove those back in the box… they weren’t organized anyway. And pick up the pace, will you? The new chick is supposed to be here at four.”

I guess I should mention that I am a proud graduate of Sarah Lawrence, who has a cushy job at an amazing gallery in LA waiting for her. And I could not be happier. I don’t have to go back to bum fucked Tennessee, and I get to be that much closer to Justin. It’s a win-win.

“Oh my fucking god… Nor…”

I turn around to find him seated on the floor, laughing hysterically and I feel the color immediately drain from my face. Why did that have to be the box he dumped all over the floor?

Obviously, I’m not a mushy, girly-girl. I’m not sentimental at all, and my first real relationship is with the guy who cut the heads off my barbies. Clearly, there is something very, very wrong with me. But, that doesn’t mean that I’m not prone to typical girl behavior, and Justin has just found the only evidence of that fact.

And it’s embarrassing as all hell.

“Aw baby… I didn’t know you had it in you. I’m… I’m flattered, actually.” He shoots me that shit eating grin and I’m contemplating just how loud he’d scream if I stabbed him right now. I could totally get away with it, right?

“I just didn’t want to throw them out and have one of your psycho fans find them and realize what an idiot you are.” I shrug, doing my best to remain nonchalant about the whole thing.

“Right.” He chuckles and shakes his head. “Admit it… you’re a hopeless romantic at heart and kept them to show your grandkids why you fell in love with me.”

Alright fine… I’m busted.

I kept every single letter he sent me, from the very first one when he left for Europe, to the one he sent just two weeks ago. (Because yes, we’re completely lovesick and disgusting, and still write each other every once in awhile.)

“Wrong. I kept them because one day, when I finally reach my breaking point, I’m going to expose you for the total lame ass you are.”

“I think it’s adorable.” He grins and kisses the tip of my nose. “Even if you won’t admit how much you adore my fine ass.”

Despite the fact that he’s an idiot, and there were various times over the years where I pictured countless ways to brutally torture him, every single freaking papercut was worth it to end up here.