I'm in love with... RC

No, silly, not that one.

The RC to whom I refer is the same person who, three years ago today, decided it might not be such a bad idea to sign over half her life's possessions in return for a pretty gold ring and... well, pretty much just the ring.

That's right, folks, today my wife and I celebrate our leather anniversary.

Now, I've never been much for tradition; quite the opposite, in fact. I've always seen tradition as a collection of obligations and limitations imposed on us by people who don't have to live our lives. I chafe at tradition, so it's just as well that nearly every aspect of our relationship, from the way we first met, to the nature of our courtship, right up to the marriage itself... was the very definition of "untraditional."

RC...

..yeah, still not the right one...

...(actually, back then it was RS) and I met the way most hip, young, modern folks do nowadays... in a fantasy role-playing chat room on AOL.

That's...

...fantasy.

Not...

...fantasy.

The progression was pretty natural; two characters having an interesting conversation in the chat room led to two people have an interesting conversation in IMs, and before we knew it, we were the best of friends. Nevermind that I thought she was a guy for the first two weeks...


Yes, you read that right. I thought my wife was a man when I first met her. A very nice, very friendly, very funny, very gay man.

Such is the beauty of anonymity on the internet.

Needless to say, my assumption was soon corrected and I was free to pursue my interest in this person without needing to reassess my sexual orientation (which was a lucky break, because I don't think my ego could have taken that kind of scrutiny).

A few months of "Maybe we are... but it could never... but it feels so... but it's long distance"ing were followed by a weeklong visit out to the Left coast (I was on the Right one at the time), wherein we would finally see if whatever sparks existed between our voices could translate into tangible reality.

Luckily for me, she was every bit as awesome in person as she was over the phone, and I was finally free to admit to myself what I'd kind of known from the moment she first told me, "Dude, I'm a chick."

I was in love.

Fast forward another year. I finally moved out to California, partially to explore the possibilities of a film career, and partially to be with her. Once we were actually able to occupy the same physical space on a regular basis, we quickly fell into the type of routine that suggested we'd been together all our lives. We couldn't even conceive of a time when the two of us weren't together.

I still can't.

After five years of "dating", and an additional year of living together, we decided to finally make legal what we'd kind of always felt.

We got married under a copse of trees overlooking the Pacific Ocean in Monterey. The wedding party consisted of the two of us, a reverend, and a photographer. It was a bright, sunny, windy day. She was beautiful and I was doofy and it was perfect.

So, now, here we are.

Three years after the wedding...


Four years after moving in together...


Eight years after jumping coasts...


...and nine years after admitting we were crazy about each other, and I still feel like the luckiest son of a bitch on Earth.

(sorry, Sam)

So, if you're single. If you're spoken for. If you've lost all faith in love, or if you're just positive it'll never come. And if you can only take one thing away from our story, let it be this...

I thought my wife was a gay dude when we first met.

Anything is possible.

Don't worry, Arcee. You'll find someone.