We sat at dinner. It was absolutely delicious which was a major consolation for the frigid wind that had struck my face numb and consequently caused my speech to slur. We talked easily and we joked; we discovered things and we dreamed. It sounds silly to admit, but I felt witty, desirable, even flirtatious. After four years of knowing each other and nearly three years of dating, those things lose their priority. It’s hard to keep them up and it becomes less important.
At one point, to my utter surprise, he revealed that he doesn’t think he’s good enough for me. “Really?! But I thought that you thought you were the sh*t!” I joked, almost embarrassed.