Fast forward a couple years, both Krysta and I were going through horrific break-ups within a few months of each. Right around that time, I ran into her on BART during the lead up to California voting on Prop 8 (hiss) and she was wearing a “Gay Rights for All” shirt and just the saddest puppy dog face you’ve ever seen. She didn’t recognize me; I reintroduced myself and asked what she was doing, “I’m headed to West Oakland to talk to people about gay marriage”. Whoa. I’ll admit it – the combination of bada$$ activism and sad face just did me in. Fast forward another few months, we’re at a friends Valentines Day Birthday party and I finally had her cornered, ahem, I mean, had a chance to really talk to her. Well, that brunch rolled into a late night dance party, a ridiculous amount of flirting and the phone number exchange.
After 3-4 failed dates (hilarious miscommunication is really “our” thing), we finally ended up at the Lexington, basically closed the bar out and from then on spent a ridiculous amount of time together, taking road trips, texting and flirting shamelessly. But the plot thickens! Or how delusional a couple of gals be! Being fresh out of complicated and painful relationships, we were both convinced that we were just not ready to jump into another relationship and therefore we would just be friends. With benefits. So we did this for over a year and a half, to where our friends would even refer to the other as our “girlfriend”, at which we’d fluff up, indignant and proclaim that we were just “friends”. Well, after a couple years of pretending, a handful of times of trying to break it off, we finally got the message and admitted we were totally in love with each other. It’s been 4 years now and this past December I proposed to Krysta – I like to say that I make sure we have plenty of adventure and Krysta makes sure we stay out of jail. She’s my best friend, hilarious, passionate about social justice and a hundred times nicer than me – I mean, how lucky can a gal be?!