Before.

That first night, it was unnerving. I felt so cold with my heater on full as I drove the 27 miles to the apartment. It was the end of summer, but it did not matter. I was shaking. So exhausted from past mistakes to relax enough to stop shaking. Finding the correct building proved troublesome. Driving in circles for what seemed like miles, eventually I parked and phoned my date. Chipper as always, she met me at the front of the complex. This was before the sleepless nights thinking about her. This was before I couldn't fathom my life without her. I had just excused myself from a situation I prolonged until it became catastrophic, leaving me borderline catatonic. She was wearing that shirt with the cat on it of that band I knew. I tried so hard not to scream out that I loved her right there, because it was too soon. It was always too soon, and I was always so early. Punctuality is fine sometimes, but not now, and not then. So I bit my tongue. I didn't even comment on it, instead I tried so hard to pretend I didn't even notice her at all. I didn't want to. I was trying to prove to myself she didn't mean anything. We had only just met and she had already become such a integral part of my life. Already, I couldn't picture it without. But I had to. I had to show myself I didn't need her. I didn't need anybody. There wasn't a void to be filled, rather an abundance of time that needed to be wasted and for that night, that was exactly what we did. We went to a movie, a comedy of course. I couldn't believe when she laughed at all of the exact same parts as I did. Was I imagining that? She couldn't be that clever. My wit sits atop the highest shelf, with the gold labels and the oldest skins, surely she could not match my intellect. But she had, surpassed it even. I was dumbfounded. After that, the night grew longer and the sun that shone so bright earlier became scarce behind the clouds. It was damn cold. We went to a beach I'd never heard of and smoked beneath the dock while kids pranced above us. This was before I taught her the difference between a prance and a skip. This was before I had the nerve to put into words how deeply and profoundly I felt for her. I walked as slow as I possibly could, trying to prolong the night in any way I could but eventually we ran out of steps. We stood there, hands clutch in an awkward cats cradle that summed up exactly how incredibly strange we both were. So much tangled, so much sense to make up. Running out of time, I kissed her in a fleeting moment I wish I could take back and make right repeatedly until I ran out of breath. But it was well received and in that moment I knew this was different. As much as I wanted it to be, this wasn't the waste of time I was looking for. This was something more potent, more dense. This was the beginning of my infatuation for someone who knew my inner workings better than even I did. This was before I put into words how I felt about her. This was before that night she got so drunk I had to pull over when we were so close to making it back. This was before all of the arguments we still haven't had. But now, it is after, and I've never been more relieved.