Like most relationships, ours took time to progress. There was no single, magical, warm, mushy, fuzzy-bunny, Hollywoodized moment. Slowly, over time, we stepped forward together. I knew I loved Cori's laugh, and the way she completes my sentences, and the way she looks when she wakes up in the morning, and the way she picks a fight when she disagrees with someone. Of course not.
True love is more than a few trite examples.
Unlike my college flings, Cori knew me in a way no one else ever could. She knew my history. This history, however, can't adequately be explained in a mushy narrative. It takes an anecdotal narrative to do it justice. She knew me when I wore parachute pants.