When I was 23 I applied for a job managing a few million dollars in rental assistance for people with disabilities who were also experiencing homelessness at entry. I don’t know if I was qualified – per se – I mean, in retrospect that seems like a lot of money to let a 23 year old manage but…it turned out I was pretty good at it.

Part of my job was to run a monthly meeting with other non-profits who were providing services to the people in housing. It was pretty intimidating as many of the folks in the room were higher up in their agency’s food chain than I was in mine. All of them had more experience in homeless housing, meeting facilitation, just…life.

My boss at the time mentions she is really excited for me to meet one of the providers. “She’s a lot like Rachel Maddow!” She’s not really that similar to Rachel Maddow. She is cute and gay, smart and liberal. But that’s the extent really.

My first meeting starts. It feel like there are 50 people in the room, though it is probably more like 15. Introductions are going quickly. I am above average with names so I try in earnest to keep up and keep track of who is with which agency. “I’m Anji, the housing manager for XXX…” Her smile is bright and reassuring.

We are discussing a change in policy and emotions are heating up. People are talking over one another – turns out human services professionals are a passionate bunch. The change is not ideal – there will be negative impacts. There is much to be upset about. Anji sits up in her chair and leans into the table. The gravity and strength of her presence are captivating and everyone falls quiet. She offers an alternate, strengths based perspective and the conversation finally moves on. I think, “so poised.”

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Years pass. A letter has been sent out to a tenant informing them that they are at risk of losing their housing due to some well intended though ill thought through policy. I return to the office from doing housing inspections. There is a ransom note on my desk with a picture of my treasured desk caddy somewhere other than my desk.

If you ever want to see your precious desk caddy again you will call Anji and XXXXX to discuss our mutual client.

I hadn’t seen much of Anji since our first meeting. Stealing my desk caddy? Bold. I like it. In my youth I am dedicated to following administrative policies with little regard for the real world details, I won’t be swayed.

I call the phone number on the note, “What have you done with my caddy? I demand proof of life!” She giggles, “We’ll be right over.” She successfully negotiates an extension for her client – there really were extenuating circumstances. The client remains housed. Turns out she had hidden my caddy in my drawer. That day I learned that my office mate’s loyalty could be bought for a few pieces of chocolate.

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Another year passes. Anji accepts a new job with an agency also involved in this housing project. Due to the different structure we see a bit more of each other. She is charming and smart and doesn’t accept no for an answer.

An entirely different story – the long term relationship I had been in comes to an abrupt ending.

A few months after I have moved out I receive an email. The folks at Anji’s new work place want to meet me and my coworker for a drink. I’m in, of course. A couple days later – a Facebook Friend Request appears.

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There were only a handful of days between when she sent me that request and when we were scheduled to have drinks but I find myself staying up later than I had planned exchanging messages. I drop that I play guitar and write music – which I usually only do when trying to attract a mate.

It’s a Wednesday which means I have spent the day doing housing inspections. After my last inspection the skies open up and I get thoroughly drenched. I’m running a bit late for drinks. My only choices are to show up wet or to skip it. Of course I go.

Anji is there when I arrive – drinking a Naughty Nelly. We laugh at the state of my shirt. My coworker doesn’t show. Anji’s coworkers are late and by the time they arrive we have left zero room for them in the conversation. After drinks we go for a walk along the marina. She is so easy to talk to.

I am not looking for a relationship. I am not ready for a relationship. It won’t work – she is older than I am and… taller. I have never dated anyone who was taller than me… How does that even work? Oof. She has a child which seems complicated.

There is a moment when I almost kiss her…but I hesitate. I am drawn to her warmth and authenticity. She is more than I can comprehend let alone kiss.

She has to run – we are saying our goodbyes. I am standing on the curb about to head back to my car. She grabs me and kisses me. Not delicately or sweetly or shyly like girls are supposed to. No, she kisses me with the same gravity and presence she uses to calm the masses in a heated meeting. Though this time it has the opposite effect.

When I get to my car I am…confused. She can’t just kiss me like that! Who does she think she is?

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She thinks we should go on a real date. So…fine. She brings me flowers and before I can say hello – she kisses me again! What is with this girl? She informs that she will be driving tonight. I inform her that I, in fact, will be driving.

I have enough fingers to count the number of times I have driven with her in the car since. Why? Because she likes to drive and and I like her ok?

She takes me to a cute little bistro by Greenlake. We talk about everything. It so cliche’ but I feel like we have known each other forever. The food is exquisite. She pays for dinner – she is so weird. I notice a couple of police officers walk into the bistro. Out of the corner of my eye I see one of them approach the table. He spins a chair around and sits on it backwards. His face is overly serious – his sideburns are adorable. In a faux-gruff voice he says, “What makes you think you are good enough to date my friend?”

“I feel quite certain I am not.”

“Good answer.”

“This is my friend XXXX.” Anji says. We all chat for a bit. I am relieved because I had no idea what was about to happen when I saw him approach me.

I would have thought it to be solid-red-flag-weird except he was such a nice guy. Knowing that she had such nice friends just drew me to her more.

We went back to my place for the 2010 version of Netflix and chill – known as DVD and lounge. As she left she invited me to her place for breakfast. Who does that? Still, I do really like breakfast food…

Fine. I come over for breakfast. Her house is adorable. She makes de-li-cious waffles and some super secret family sausage recipe that she infers I could get more of in the future – if I stick around.