I'm skipping a lot of shit, I know, but God did I love our first date. It took me six months to ask you out, which was surprising since it took me two years to actually call you. Guess I've grown some balls since then, eh?

It was over Skype, like everything was between you and me at the time. I think we were talking about lunch plans whenever I got to America to meet you or something around those lines. I was nervous because I'd already promised that morning that I would ask you out, and I wasn't going to put it off anymore. You told me weeks prior that you were gay (I think it was an accident because you didn't mention at all after that day, maybe you get discouraged because I didn't say anything while I was trying my best to hide my excitement?) and that awoke some sort of new hope inside me.

You were right in the middle of talking about Olive Garden when I mentioned it.

"It could be a date, or whatever."

"A date?"

"Yeah. Is that okay?"

"Uh...yeah. Yeah, that-that's wonderful."

You called it wonderful, you cheeky little nerd.

Let's skip to when I arrived at America. Tucker was busy, so was Sonja, and you were the only one around to pick me up. I don't think Tucker knew about my crush on you because he failed to mention that YOU WERE PICKING ME UP FROM THE AIRPORT. I was dressed in gross sweatpants, a hoodie stained with monster energy juice, and my hair looked like somebody tried to brush it with a weed whacker. It was a ten hour flight, what else would someone expect from me? I was a mess.

When I saw you standing patiently by the escalator with my name on a neat little sign you'd made yourself, I felt like throwing up. I actually considered running away and hiding until you left, but then I figured you would hate me even more because of that, and so I accepted my fate with a mighty grain of salt.

I went up to you. You looked like a ducking angel and I looked like a literal trash can. Your eyes lit up when they saw me. You hugged me. Told me it was so nice to see me again. You took my bags for me. You held the doors open for me. All I could think was I look like shit.

The date happened after you picked me up. I said nothing about my clothes because I was too mortified to speak. I think you got discouraged from that, maybe you took it I wasn't really as interested in you anymore. I hope that wasn't it. You were literally my life. You still are. You always will be.

You took me to Olive Garden. I didn't think things could get any worse than looking like trash in a fancy restaurant, but I was wrong. You asked for our table. The waiter looked at me, scanned me up and down, and practically announced to the whole restaurant that I wasn't allowed in because of the way I was "attired". You flipped shit. I almost puked (thank god I didn't) and was completely horrified to be alive. So many people were staring at me. I ran out right in the middle of your awesome rant and hid in your car until you came back.

I cried. As wimpy as that sounds, I did, and it was so gross that it brought my sweatpants to shame. I'm an ugly crier, you know that. My face gets puffy, I break out in hives, everything gets red and swollen. In fear of humiliating myself any further by showing you this, I crawled into the backseat of your amazing car and sobbed into your fancy leather seats. Great first date so far, right?

Then you came back. You crawled back there with me and hugged me. We had the longest conversation we'd ever had, and it was about how much Olive Garden sucked and all of its snobby waiters too. You calmed me down. We drove to McDonalds instead. Chicken nuggets made everything better. The girl waiter complimented my sweatpants when I came back from a bathroom trip, but I think you paid her to or something because my sweatpants are horrifyingly ugly. You're a sweet little squish, you know that?

(You are such a meme, couldn't help myself)

We drove back to your place afterwards. I don't think you wanted to take me home so soon, maybe you knew I was going to cry as soon as I was alone again.

Your apartment was so neat and disgustingly clean, it gave me shivers. I thought for a split second that maybe you were a robot or something because of how lifeless your place looked, but then as you toured me further along I began to find things that proved you were indeed, human.

I don't think you realize how utterly adorable you are when you're talking about the things you love. Like, you get this cute spark in your eyes and your voice gets all low and shy, like you're afraid to share it with me but you want to so badly. I love that to all hell. When you showed me your gaming room for the first time, you were so adorable I wanted to pinch your cheeks and kiss the shit out of you. But I managed to control myself. Barely.

When night rolled around and my eyes were beginning to get heavy, you offered to let me stay the night. Of course I said yes, but I had to play hard to get so I wouldn't come off desperate. I made a deal: if I got to sleep with you in your bed then I would stay. You agreed in the blink of an eye.

The cuddling really made the whole experience that much more amazing. I'd never had the opportunity to be the little spoon before, and you were the perfect big. Would you believe me if I told you the whole time I was laying there, I was praying and hoping silently that you had chest hair? You know by now that chest hair is a major turn on for me and when I found out you had some, that pretty much sealed the deal.

Alright, this page is getting too detailed. I should move on to the next before I start listing all my favorite fetishes that involve you. Ew.

Just kidding. Go read the next page, cutie.

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