![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Rachel, Cassandra, & Coffee (note the Oxford comma!)
So Cassandra and I are sitting in the 1369 Coffeehouse on Mass Ave drinking coffee. The coffee is delicious (and mine is full of espresso, it's not actually coffee, it's some sort of froofy mocha latte soy yuppie-drip thing). Almost but not quite two years ago, we were sitting here at a different table and I was drinking some sort of iced yuppie thing while Cassandra was drinking chai. We had just gone on an absolutely terrible first date --- her hair stuck up like Yomiko Readman, the waitress playing with my hair, Cassandra off to the bathroom every five minutes, my lipstick coming off on the tea-cup... so when it was over, both of us being unwilling to give up on the evening, we went out for coffee.
I think we spent most of our two hours talking about Mongolia, which I now think of as "place Cassandra is most likely to get marmot plague." Honestly, we spent most of our time laughing, which is why we called each other up a few days later and decided to get coffee --- hold the dinner --- next time. But maybe after or before coffee we could catch a movie? And so it went (we eventually became capable of eating in each other's presence, which is a good thing because Cassandra is a brilliant cook). After a few months of this, we accidentally-on-purpose held hands and then finally admitted what might be going on here.
A few months ago, Cassandra and I moved in together, which has been nothing short of wonderful. (Well, assuming that assembling Cassandra's godforsaken 6'x6' square Ikea bookshelf is long of wonderful. The damn thing is, if nothing else, long. Too long for the car, too long for the stairs, &c.) This means that every Saturday morning that we don't have other plans, Cassandra and I are able to take the morning to ourselves. This morning was one of these; we talked about matters inconsequential and of earth-shaking import. In our bathrobes. Our _fuzzy_ bathrobes.
Anyway, one thing got to another, and I poked her in the nose. (Salacious, I know.) She said "Toaster!" I twisted her nose to see if changing the channel would get me anything different; her statement of "Ding!" was a little better but not perfect. Well, I guess I did poke her in the nose long enough to queue a few score Ding!s. But that's just because I was being difficult. After the last Ding! I twisted again and got a "Sploit!," which I think was supposed to be some sort of Mac Classic error noise or something. (Cassandra insists that I have the ordering of the Sploit and the Ding wrong. Wait, now she's corroborating. Muahaha!) Anyway, that was a little troubling, so I twisted her nose again, and then poked it, and then she said "Will you marry me?"
I fell down. Then I said yes.
I think we spent most of our two hours talking about Mongolia, which I now think of as "place Cassandra is most likely to get marmot plague." Honestly, we spent most of our time laughing, which is why we called each other up a few days later and decided to get coffee --- hold the dinner --- next time. But maybe after or before coffee we could catch a movie? And so it went (we eventually became capable of eating in each other's presence, which is a good thing because Cassandra is a brilliant cook). After a few months of this, we accidentally-on-purpose held hands and then finally admitted what might be going on here.
A few months ago, Cassandra and I moved in together, which has been nothing short of wonderful. (Well, assuming that assembling Cassandra's godforsaken 6'x6' square Ikea bookshelf is long of wonderful. The damn thing is, if nothing else, long. Too long for the car, too long for the stairs, &c.) This means that every Saturday morning that we don't have other plans, Cassandra and I are able to take the morning to ourselves. This morning was one of these; we talked about matters inconsequential and of earth-shaking import. In our bathrobes. Our _fuzzy_ bathrobes.
Anyway, one thing got to another, and I poked her in the nose. (Salacious, I know.) She said "Toaster!" I twisted her nose to see if changing the channel would get me anything different; her statement of "Ding!" was a little better but not perfect. Well, I guess I did poke her in the nose long enough to queue a few score Ding!s. But that's just because I was being difficult. After the last Ding! I twisted again and got a "Sploit!," which I think was supposed to be some sort of Mac Classic error noise or something. (Cassandra insists that I have the ordering of the Sploit and the Ding wrong. Wait, now she's corroborating. Muahaha!) Anyway, that was a little troubling, so I twisted her nose again, and then poked it, and then she said "Will you marry me?"
I fell down. Then I said yes.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif){kind=small}
Page 1 of 2