I remember when Evan and I first met, almost exactly six years ago to the day. He was in the student union, all bundled up in a stiff wool coat, and when I saw him, blood rushed into my face. After chasing him for a few weeks (he'd see me, stammer shyly, and leave Raisinets for me at the front desk of East Quad) we finally made plans to have cocoa. And it's strange, because I somehow knew right away that I was going to fall in love with him. And I
told him this within two weeks of spending time together. I look back on it now and realize that revealing so much of myself goes against the dating rules of studied detachment. You're just not supposed to blab a sentiment like that, even if you believe it. But we did fall in love, you know. Maybe the secret to feeling comfortable around somebody is allowing yourself to do so.