I met Amy in November 2000, a half-blind setup by my friend Steve and his fiancee, Ilysa, who had Amy crash drinks with us at the East 64th St Merchants NY. I didn’t know I was being marketed until the cab ride home, when Ilysa grilled me with, “What’d you think of Amy wasn’t she cute isn’t she nice do you want to call her I think you should call her here’s her number she’s expecting you to call so give her a call good luck,” and left me in the cab with a scrap of paper.
Dutifully, I called. Amy and I went on three dates in the span of a week and a half around Thanksgiving; the first was fun, the second two, less so. We were both intrigued but not quite “there.” Regardless, Amy invited me up to her apartment for a nightcap after our third date.
I turned her down and didn’t see her until January.
Prompted over the holidays by an insistent friend, I called Amy just after New Year’s 2001, curious about trying again. She called me back six days later. Our dates went much more smoothly, and our third date the second time around was a magical night at Jules in the East Village. We stayed out late listening to jazz and drinking red wine. Amy invited me up for a nightcap. This time I accepted.
Two days later, we had a swirling, all-night phone call, and somewhere around 3 a.m. I professed a desire to date her exclusively and see what happens. She thought I was mildly crazy but she ran with it.
We fell in love in the springtime: me first, declaring it at lunch outside her building, a little too earnestly; her a few weeks later, in a whisper, walking with me down Ninth Avenue. We spent the summer kissing, snuggling, holding hands, and looking googly-eyed at each other, as any happy lovebirds should.
In the year since, we have grown fully into each other’s lives. We look out for one another, take care of one another, challenge each other to be better and stronger individuals. More often than not, we are ridiculously romantic. I dote on her, bring her flowers, make the bed; she prepares my lunch, runs my errands, giggles at my jokes. We see each other every day and hate being out of touch for more than a few hours at a time. We are, in short, hopelessly in love.
Last summer, we went to the Charlotte Inn on Martha’s Vineyard for our first real vacation together. The weekend was romantic and wonderful. When we discovered this past spring that the puppy I was to give Amy would be delayed until the fall, Amy asked if we could go back.
I booked the room in mid-May and started planning.
My relationship with Amy is like none I’ve had before. No one excites, inspires, surprises, or adores me like she does. I have never been as caring, selfless, trusting or revealing as I am when I am around her. We share laughs, values, hopes and dreams. My friends and family cannot stop telling me what a wonderful person I’ve found, and I couldn’t agree more.
Saturday night in the Vineyard, after dinner at the inn’s restaurant, I brought Amy to a magnificent room filled with flowers and champagne. On the floor was a DVD playerâshe’d been askingâand in my pocket was an oval diamond in a platinum setting with trillions on the side, the ring of her dreams.
“Of course I will!” she exclaimed.
To my biggest fan and most devoted reader: I love you, Amy. I couldn’t be more excited to spend the rest of my life with you.