Happy Anniversary, Lover

Remember how April 24 is always a red-letter day (Skye's birthday, 55-year-old man asking me out, near-death experience with the old man trying to shoot me and Trevor, the surprise with the homeless person under the dumpster, etc.)? Maybe this time of year is significant too. Were ex-boyfriend and I still together, this would be an anniversary.
I still laugh about how it all went down. I must have been riding a wave of self-confidence, because I felt like it was bound to happen sooner or later. I knew what he wanted, but I made him work for it a bit. He'd come over to get away from someone at home who made him unhappy. I was still pining away for someone else. He was waiting for me when I got home from visiting teaching. I think it'd been raining, because I remember my yard looking damp. We talked for a while. He ate ice cream out of my freezer that had been there for heaven knows how long. I don't like ice cream. It may still be in my freezer, in fact. We ended up watching a couple movies. They were short, so it wasn't a huge deal, but I tried to kick him out of my house because it was late. He begged me to watch another one. I told him I was tired and that I might fall asleep. I guess that's when he decided to attempt a "move." He positioned me so I my head was on his chest, but ironically, I couldn't even see the television. Instead, I laughed to myself for the whole 45 minute video, not because of the corny goings-on on the screen, but because I could hear his heartbeat speed up and slow down rather consistently. I could tell when he was planning and anticipating and when he'd talk himself out of it. At the end of the movie, I thought he'd go home, but no such luck. I knew he wanted me. He kept saying ridiculous things like, "I really should go home, but here I am..." and it was lame. And cute. Finally, I told him that I wasn't opposed to this thing happening, but that if he wanted it, it was all on him. He had to decide. He had to make the move. That was all the invitation he needed. A few days after kissing him, I remember calling my girls and telling them I didn't know what I thought about it. But we worked past it and had a summer of love and happiness. And then summer ended. And then the relationship ended. And then my life ended, temporarily. But I came out of the sorrow like a butterfly from a cocoon. I'm not a monarch. I'm just a plain little yellow butterfly, not much more than a moth. But I have wings and were I to ever land on his shoulder, I'd sprinkle him with fairy dust and dance and thank him for teaching me to love.