100 days ago on May 10th, sometime between 12:00am and 1:00am, I asked Clay out on a date. I know, exciting eh? 100 days later, we still haven’t gone out on a date. However, we’ve probably had over a dozen arguments over stupid, serious and/or silly things. Go figure. I can’t even think of how many bags of Skittles I could have possibly consumed between May 10th and today, I just can’t. I can’t remember how many hugs have been shared, how many late night conversations have occurred, how many times I’ve fallen asleep on him during a chat and how many text messages we’ve exchanged. I can’t remember how many times I have called him an asshole to his face, but it’s been quite a bit. I can’t remember all the silly little nicknames he’s come up for me over the last 100 days. I can’t even remember half of the ones I’ve come up with for him. But what I can remember most vividly is the first kiss that we shared. I was on my tiptoes, and he leaned down to close that distance. We were standing just inside of the first aid room at work because he claimed to not know where something is and I knew where it was, so obviously helpful little me got up to help (plus, I was reading a manual and it was boring as hell and I wanted a break). There was a hug, there was a kiss, and then it was back to work.
Oh, and it also happened today.