I met Funny Ol' Becker 14 years and 51 weeks ago. He was sitting at a table in the cafeteria of our high school with a handful of other people. A very nervous, very scared Mr. Lady was introduced to everyone at that table, including the illustrious Molly and the subject of this post. I remember that Jon O. and Donga were eating blueberry yogurt and squishing it through their teeth that day. I remember Molly, I remember all of them. But mostly I remember Funny Ol' Becker.

I think he had braces then, and I am certain that he had some very sweet helmet hair. He made almost no notice of me that day, and that day is the day I fell completely in love with him.

Let's just say he didn't so much reciprocate.

We spent the remaining year and a half of our high school experience in this weird, awkward love/hate sort of thing. We ran in the same tight circle, so we were constantly in each other's company. He was always polite to me and I was always a crazy stalker to him.

At least we were consistent.

We graduated and I never, ever expected to hear from him again. Well, I did. He called a few months after graduation, because every single other person he could possibly think of to hang out with was away at college, and he needed someone to talk to, and being the only option, I got the call. We went out. On something closely resembling a date. I can't recall exactly what we did but afterwards we climbed the hill to where the train tracks lay behind my house and we sat until very late talking about poetry and literature and all sorts of things. It was, in a word, lovely.

The next day a note arrived on my door while I was at work; a random, kidnap/ransom style anonymous note. It had a poem inside and nothing more. Knowing full well that there was no way this could possibly have come from Funny Ol' Becker, I called him and had him help me determine the author and possible origin of the letter. A while later he confessed that it was indeed from him after all.

We were together for 3 years. I remember our first kiss, my first real kiss. I remember our first, um, well, maybe that's not appropriate for a mommy blog. Anyway, we had three years full of too many moments that I will never forget. He always had a way of taking my breath away.

And then I dumped him (badly) and then we didn't talk for a few years. And then, one day, for no real reason, we talked again. And we have talked ever since.

Dear Scott, you turn 32 years old today. That fact alone blows my mind. You were a kid when I met you, and now you are this very grown up man and it totally trips me out. The more amazing thing is that I have had the honor of watching you do all that growing up, and played a role in it, sometimes a lead, sometimes a cameo, sometimes merely inspiration. But I have always been in your picture, and I know that, and I cannot imagine for one single second why you let me stick around, but you do and I am forever grateful.

We talk often, sometime too often and sometimes not often enough. We talk about Star Wars and X-Men (in depth) and music and poetry and philosophy and breakfast cereal and everything in between. I think what I love about you the most is your consistency. You know exactly who you are and what you are and you have never faltered for a second from it. And oddly enough, you know exactly who I am and you stay anyway. I think it is safe to say that you know me better than any other person in the world. You have watched me got through every phase of my life so far and you have stood beside me through it all (well, except that seeing other people phase, but that's totally understandable). I have cried more in front of you than any other human on earth, I have told you things I have not told another soul. I laugh with you and I feel with you and I am never, ever afraid with you. You are the one, the ONE, that I know for sure will never leave me. If you were going to, you certainly had plenty of opportunity. But here you are. You have listened to my heart break over and over again because of this guy, this guy I dumped you for, and you have always just been there, no judgements, no I-told-you-so's, no nothings. You are just my friend, and you just care about me, and that is just that.

You and I have managed to salvage what was a rocky teenaged relationship that should have bitterly ended and turn it into the kind of friendship that people dream of having. I love you for every single little thing that you are. I love your bad jokes and your constant innuendo and your Dan Folgelberg thing and because I cannot picture you on that bicycle though I know you ride it everywhere and because when I close my eyes really tight I can still hear you sing and I have never heard anything in the world more beautiful than the sound of you singing and because you are amazingly talented and gifted and funny and clever and beautiful and mostly because I know with no doubt that I in no way deserve you and yet you are still here and my constant friend and you ask nothing in return and you never will.

I just love you. And i am not really allowed to say that anymore, given our history, but nobody said I couldn't type it. Scott, I love you. I am always, always going to love you. I promise you that I will try my very hardest for the rest of my life to deserve the friendship that you give me so freely. I will be the very best friend I can be (and sometimes that isn't so very great at all, but you already know that, don't you?) I will never, ever take you for granted.

I hope you have a wonderful birthday.