A lot of people google “best first date” and wind up here, which is no surprise since I do claim that my date with BFD was the Best First Date ever. (It was.) I gave him his name BFD for the best first date (and the fact he is a big fucking deal).

In reading back through the archives, I saw how I fell for him immediately, how uncomfortable I was with how comfortable he was so quickly, and how we have grown in our relationship, especially over the last month or so.

Now we are on the cusp of dating for seven months. Seven months. Wow. It feels like such a long time, but I know it is not. Still, it’s significant. It’s hard for me to imagine now that we will stop seeing each other for a particularly stupid reason. Any breakup will be for very bad, painful reasons.

Our trajectory is good. Everything is solid. We are getting closer all the time. I am head over heels for this guy. And he seems to feel the same for me. We’re strongly together, happy in each other’s presences, and spending as much time together as we can.

It’s special.

Though I knew from the first time we met (if not before) that there was something amazing between us, I am still surprised that we’ve lasted through some of the nonsense, the long separations, the bad dates, the misunderstandings, the miscommunications, and our general crankiness and occasional short tempers. It’s not perfect, but it’s wonderful.

I get him on a level I don’t know I have ever gotten anyone else. We speak the same language, have similar backgrounds and experiences, share particular cultural passions and philosophical interests, and are a little nerdier than we care to admit. We are also much cooler than we care to admit, too.

I find him fascinating, how his brain works, how he moves through space, how he interacts with people. I was thinking back to a date in January when we went to a sports related activity for the first time together. I watched him move through the crowd, I saw him scan for me and become visibly anxious, though only to me, until he sensed me next to him again. Watching him move through the world, independent from me, discussing things with staff there and waitstaff at dinner that night and on the phone with his mother to check in on an ailing relative, I realized how well I know him . . . the essential him . . . without knowing the facts of him.

He constantly surprises me. Our date of truth proved that. And yet, he does not surprise me at all. I know him on a fundamental level. I get him, which is why I tolerate his “typical BFD bullshit.” I believe he gets me, which is why he tolerates my occasional craziness and some of the madness that surrounds me.

It’s not easy. It’s never easy. But it is wonderful.