(NOTE: Yeah, yeah, been a while. I'll cover what happened since April 2012 in the next post.)
Three years ago today, I went on my first date with Roxanne. We drove down Highway 1, had a beach picnic at a lighthouse, rode roller coasters at the Santa Cruz Boardwalk, and cuddled under the stars. Lovely day, lovely lady.
Two years ago today, we celebrated our first anniversary. Dinner by the water in Half Moon Bay, small gifts exchanged, hours of passion.
One year ago today, we drove down to Monterey to spend our second anniversary wandering the aquarium, getting great Mediterranean food at this café in Carmel, and getting me through an infected bug bite that threatened to ruin the whole thing.
Today we were supposed to cuddle in a hammock, scarf down obscene amounts of sushi and sashimi, and pack for a 2-day trip to Vegas to celebrate our third anniversary with Cirque du Soleil tickets. Instead I'm home alone, writing this and thinking of what could have been because, as unbelievable as it sounds to those who saw us together since that August day, we broke up last month.
