I met Justin under the dinosaur bones.
I’ve been hearing about him for weeks. He spent the summer with my best friend, Conor, while interning at the American Civil Liberties Union. They grew up in Florida together playing discus on the golf course at sunset.
The three of us decided to meet at LA’s Museum of Natural History for an event on First Friday. When I arrived, I ordered a gin and tonic to calm my nervous system. I had cancer as a teenager, and 11 years into remission, my body is finally starting to process the trauma. Drinking helped even things out.
Justin is so handsome; eyes wide, tall, and blue-gray like the fog of San Francisco. He actually looks at you when you speak. So many people in LA don’t really engage in the give-and-take conversation. They wait their turn to share their stuff in the airbag as you talk. Justin’s attention to me almost startled me.
I announced my abandonment of relationships after breaking up with my boyfriend six months ago. My anxiety is bad. Almost every day I convinced myself that I was going to die. I barely eat, barely sleep, and socializing is like running a marathon. I need to focus on my mental health. Summer plans include hiking in Griffith Park, going to therapy as if it were a college course on which my career depends, and soaking in a warm bath.
As we weaved our way through the glittering stones in the Gems and Minerals Hall, I learned that Justin had an identical twin, that he was friends with his parents and that he felt called out to him. call for help.
In the Age of Mammals exhibit, multicolored lights move to the beat of a DJ mixing hip-hop and dance music. My spine vibrates a little when Justin leans down to say something in my ear over the music. Something about the way the taxonomist locates the tiger or the haunting lifelessness of its eyes. At this point, Conor was ahead of us. I later found out he told Justin before he came to LA that he absolutely had a crush on me.
As we strolled outside the museum, the lively night air whispered to me that Justin and I were living at the same time – on the same planet where dinosaurs and mammoths once roamed – I experienced a fever of fascination I had never felt before. I know we will know each other forever.
Justin and I were entangled in each other, and for a million different lives it will always be like this. It was during our heated debate over who would win the mortal battle – the Komodo dragon or the hippo – that I learned this.
I realized something else that night. I can have fun, flirt, and dance in front of a Tyrannosaurus rex skeleton singing “Nice for What” while nervous. Coping with trauma can feel daunting, but life goes on – even if your hands shake as you squeeze lemons into gin and tonics.
The next few weeks were filled with so many things that I’m sure look like small moments from the outside but are like an animated symphony on the inside – prolonged eye contact at a vibrant center, touching hands at an impromptu gig in Second City, danced and kissed until 2 a.m. at Surly Goat and then fell asleep instantly on Conor’s kitchen air mattress. I feel anxiety running through my body like an electric current in all these romantic snaps. But looking back, none of that is what I remember best.
Justin has been so sweet to me all summer. I told him about having cancer as a teenager and how waking up one morning in my late 20s was scared about my own body and how the trauma manifested itself. Some weird ways that I don’t understand. He is patient, supportive and non-judgmental. He treats me the way I wish I could treat myself. Justin likes me the way I am.
A lot of people will tell you that you need to work on yourself before looking for a relationship. That you need to be whole. But no one is perfect, really whole. We still deserve good things even when we are empty.
Fall is also the time for Justin to return to law school. We love each other, not knowing if our feelings will fade with the summer – or we’re building something of flesh on bone.
Love does not fade. We text each other all day and talk on the phone at night. He would send me podcasts about politics and I would send him poems to continue the process of getting to know each other. We really enjoy hearing how other people think about things and discovering the lens they see the world through.
The first time I visited him in Boston, we walked around the Harvard campus holding hands, picnicking at the Boston Common, and continued our habit of dating in bars. I met his twin brother and his friends who, unsurprisingly, considered him the world. And I fell in love more deeply. At the end of the trip, we formalized everything.
We were in a long distance relationship for two years and then moved in together in LA at the start of the COVID-19 pandemic. Our home feels safe and happy amid the scary backdrop. In the midst of my panic attacks, we would make tea and hug each other as the water boiled, only to let go when the blue kettle made a creak that stuck in all of us at that moment. We played board games, giggled at old movies and talked. We talked a lot. I can talk to Justin like I can’t talk to anyone else.
Today we live together in the Bay Area with a funny little cat named Lady. I still struggle with anxiety but I’m also in a tender and strong relationship – so strong I bet it can withstand even a meteor.
The author is a writer and poet based in the Bay Area. Her on Instagram: @kelseytakes
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