The best ever valentine

Two years ago today, I returned to London from Ivrea, leaving behind the guy I may or may not have been dating; I was about to fly back to San Francisco. My good girlfriend, C., was my valentine date at Wagamama.  We invoked the cone of silence and she told me about a promising date she'd had with a lovely mutual friend–she couldn't wait to see him again. We parted ways and I headed back to the hotel, setting my alarm for 5:00 a.m. so I'd make my flight from Heathrow to SFO.

Early in the morning, I had 60 seconds of email connectivity before the connection crashed. I found an email from Eeva-Liisa Pelkonen, titled "Congratulations!" I gasped. Eeva is the head of the history/theory program in the Yale School of Architecture. I got into Yale. I got into Yale! I. Got. Into. Yale! It was too early to call friends in Italy, too late to call my parents or East Coast friends. So I called John and Maggie and gleefully shared the news. From the airport, I called Jenn and Tristam ("Wicked!" he said, half in sleep). My flight back to the US was filled with peace and happiness.

As for my dinner date two years ago? She spends her life with the guy she told me about. And me? I'm celebrating my Valentine's Day again with Enrique, one of the five people who got a congratulatory phone call and note two years ago. Funny how that date turned out for me and C.

(This time around, Enrique and I are on our way to dinner at Thali for Indian food from Hyderabad. We're braving the elements for naan.)

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