On February 12th, 2010, I was a brand new Americorps VISTA volunteer living in the world’s tiniest studio apartment (it even had a Murphy bed!) in midtown Sacramento —- all the way on the other side of the country from where I’d grown up, outside Philly. I’d met Rob through a mutual friend just the month before, but through some combination of fate, coincidence and destiny, he happened to be my neighbor too.
That night, he came walking down the little alley that separated the two streets we lived on and picked me up for our first date. I mostly remember looking up from my stoop, where I was impatiently waiting for him, and feeling like my heart was going to climb right out of my chest from nerves alone. Twelve years later, and every time Rob walks into a room I still feel the same, although it’s due to my absolute and astonishing love for everything about him.
It’s not easy for Rob because, as you can see, he does have the world’s cutest face. And often when I walk into a room and he’s there I usually yell something like “WHY DO YOU LOOK THIS CUTE” (to be fair, we both ask Walter something similar every day so we’re just a family that demands answers for our cuteness).
But this man is more than just excessive handsomeness. He uprooted his entire life to move with me into a camper van, and still prefers spontaneous road trips, secluded campgrounds and long hiking trails over anything else. He’s a backpacker, a bird-watcher, a tree-lover and was a person dedicated to being vegetarian (and then vegan) well before I understood the transformative justice of these movements.
He wholeheartedly encouraged me when I wanted to pursue writing romance novels. And he reads my books, cover-to-cover, on release night and is super patient when I say “show me all of your favorite parts” and then he does, page by page. He’s in the process of building me a writing desk, and he cradles Walter like a baby while kissing him on the nose, and he bought me a ‘Happy Bi Day’ cake to celebrate Bisexual Awareness Week.
Twelve years later and Rob remains as funny, kind, generous and thoughtful as the day that I met him. Together, we’ve built a semi-nomadic life with our rescue pup and camper van that’s taken us from California to Canada, Argentina to Vermont, Maine to South Philly.
Every single day we spend together is a gift — I love you, Rob. Here’s to many more years of drinking coffee around campfires.
