Next thing I know, Jose and I are spending an hour and a half on the phone.

He sends my flowers the next day and I do my best to friend zone him for a year and a half.

When I wake up the next morning, the sun is shining yet my head feels cloudy. My heart races for reasons unknown to me and I suddenly hate everything and everyone around me. It’s as if a demon has navigated its way inside my body, using me as its host. I ache from head to toe and I’m spontaneously miserable. My once bubbly personality has all but disappeared, overnight. I think along with it, went my will to live.

Not this shit again. What is this sense of impending doom and most importantly, why the fuck is it here, disturbing my peace?

Over the next few months, I become desperate to not feel this sensation. I begin to try every distraction that I can possibly think of. First, I try to drown myself in sin. When that doesn’t work, I try to drown myself in religion.

When neither of those work, I try filling my late nights with copious amounts of alcohol. 

Part of me knows that alcohol isn’t the answer, but that doesn’t stop me from trying to have it answer all of my questions. One gulp at a time. It’s the only thing that helps when I get like this. 

Whatever this is.

Little by little, everything seems to be simultaneously falling apart.

Work. Home. Friendships. They all start to take a hit as I climb in and out of my depressive state. I start avoiding my old friends and begin making room for new ones, just so that no one knows me well enough to know that I’m lying when they ask me how I’m doing. 

My phone dings. It’s a text from Jose.

“How about letting me take you out on that date now?”

Ugh, I groaned.

I hesitate before answering.

This mother fucker is really trying to ruin our friendship.

 This guy is persistent.

“Just one date and then I’ll leave you alone,” he messages again. 

I roll my eyes again, but this time, I smile at his persistence. 

Restless, full of stress, and needing a distraction, I decide to give him a yes, but with limitations in place.

“Ok,” I agree. “But on one condition. Promise me that we can still be friends when this inevitably gets weird.”

“Deal,” he agrees.

What’s the worst that can happen?

“Not tonight though. Next Saturday. One date and that’s it.” I say.

“Where would you like to go?”

“How about downtown?” I suggest.

“Works for me. I’ll pick you up Saturday,” he promises.

Before I know it, we're married.

The next few years are filled with new jobs, baby snuggles, and newly wedded chaos.