My best friend Paul and I ended up at one of our usual spots. She comes into the bar and starts checking in with her friends, then makes her way towards the two of us. She comes up to me and asks about my shirt and my saint necklace and we chatted for the rest of the night. 

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Over the next few weeks, we hung out here and there. I never “asked her out” on a date because at first, I thought she was into my best friend. I invited her and my best friend over for dinner and drinks. He left early, I kept drinking, then I confessed my true feelings to her. 

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I spent the next few days assessing the situation and consulted with my best friend. After some pressure from Paul and one of her best friends, I decided to ask her out on a date with an open invitation.

 

Diner at La Peg, gelato at Capofito, and a kiss by the river… the rest is history. 

I was meeting some friends at Garage, a neighborhood bar, after work.  He was there with friends.  Everyone knew each other but us.  We were all chatting and drinking.  He was wearing a shirt with his face on it and didn't really talk much, but there was something about him. 

 

We hung out for months as friends - strictly friends.  A few lunches, walks, some runs...that should've been a big indication he was into me.  Who willingly runs Ben Franklin Bridge that isn't a runner??  I taught him how to cook a few dishes.  One night, he had made dinner and drank a little too much truth serum, leading to an adorable confession.  My response "How about you ask me on a real date?" 

 

He didn't.

 

Another week went by before I was told we'd be having dinner on May 18.  Where? What to wear? No details.  After dinner at La Peg, gelato at Capofito and a walk around Penns Landing... the rest is history.

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Biz, this is all your fault.