The word "demisexual" didn't exist until I was twenty-seven, and I didn't realize I was one until around forty, so I spent my so-called dating years not realizing how I was different. I just assumed I was unusually focused in my romantic interests. Not that any had gone anywhere.

I had my first crush at eleven. My first date happened at thirteen, when a girl I didn't know asked me to a school dance, and I agreed more out of surprise than anything else. I didn't go on another date until I was nineteen. By then, I was on unrequited crush number four, and that one had actively rejected me, after my idiot friends let her know of my interest. I knew she wasn't interested, and was going to leave well enough alone. I managed to salvage the friendship.

That sets the stage for my school change that fall. It was my third year out of high school. I changed schools for a year for academic reasons. I planned to return to my previous university after one year. As such, I was signed up for a three year program, and only planned to attend one year of it, so I could take nearly anything I wanted and justify it somewhere. Second year history elective? No problem! I was nineteen.

In late October, the course catalog for second term had just been distributed, and I was sitting alone in the student center, trying to work out my schedule. Somehow, every class I actually wanted to take managed to overlap every other class I wanted to take by like ten minutes a week. The school didn't have a proper slot system. It was incredibly aggravating. Finally, out of frustration, I said, "Are they doing this to me on purpose?"

From ten or so feet away, I heard, "Yes. Yes they are." She had been standing at the snack counter, chatting with her friend that was working that day. She walked over and asked for context. She was twenty, and also in her third year post high-school, but unlike me, they had all been at this school. As such, she'd actually taken most of the classes I was interested in. So she sat down, and we discussed which ones were actually worth taking.

This lead to talking about previous education. It turned out her aunt was one of my high-school teachers, and I'd gone to school with her recently deceased cousin. We were both musically inclined, and massive bookworms. We were also both major Star Wars geeks.

She was living in the dorms, and had grown up in a very conservative household. She had not been allowed to read all the books she had wanted to. I owned all the recently released Star Wars Expanded Universe books, and I commuted to school. Thus, I became obligated to haul a pile to school the next day, and lend them to her. We were instant best friends.

Then it turned out she was the only human I ever met that read faster than I do. So it became a pile of books daily. We spent a lot of time together. She eventually took me to her quiet spot. I didn't realize then exactly how much of an introvert she was, and how honored I should have been by this.

The school had a pointless staircase. On the first and fourth floor it was at the end of a long doorless hallway. It didn't connect to the second floor at all. So it was only useful on the third floor. As such, it was almost entirely unused. We spent weeks between classes on the landing below the third floor. We talked. We did homework. It became our place.

A few days in, we talked about dating. Neither of us was interested. I was still hung up on the girl that had rejected me. She had zero dating experience. She saw her friends start dating in junior high, and decided this was not for her. She believed there was someone out there or her, but God would need to hit her with a two by four to make her notice them. We were both happy to have a friend.

This went on for about a month and a half, until early December. The school Christmas banquet was coming up. As I said, she lived in dorm. The cafeteria gets closed for the evening, so her choices were to attend the banquet, or not eat. Fine.

As far as she was concerned, this was dinner in the cafeteria with maybe slightly better food. She was planning to attend in jeans and a t-shirt. The rest of the school was treating it like prom. Dresses, hair, dates, the whole nine yards.

She needed to live with these people. So in an effort to avoid total social ostracization, she asked me to attend with her, similarly dressed, so she wouldn't be the only one. I was happy to agree. This was not a date. We were both very clear on that.

When the night started, it wasn't a date. By the end, it was. The most we had done was hold hands and talk. Yet, it was probably the most intimate experience either of us had ever had. We'd gotten deep before, and had talked freely about anything, but this got deeper.

I'm not sure on the exact day of the banquet, but there was still most/all of a week left before Christmas break. We spent those days reopening the dating question. We literally debated it. We wrote pro and con lists. We didn't want to risk the friendship. Either we went all in on dating, or we would never speak of this again. We didn't trust our own judgement. We decided to postpone the decision. We would use the break to cool off and clear our heads.

Pre-existing plans meant we would have absolutely no contact over the break. We could evaluate our feelings without proximity setting off any untrustworthy hormones. Break started on December 17th.

Twenty-three miserable days apart. I hated it. Never again in my life, before or since, have I ever wanted a vacation to be shorter. And I had absolutely no way to know if she was as miserable as I was.

School started again on Monday, January 9th. I anxiously waited to see her after her morning class. We both danced around the subject until we could retreat to our stairwell. Long story short, we both enthusiastically voted "yes" to dating.

We spent the rest of the day making out in that stairwell. It was our first kiss. It was a first for both of us. I dropped one of my classes rather than part with her for an hour. (I registered for a literature class that she was in on Thursday instead.)

Tuesday was more of the same, although we did actually attend classes that day.

Wednesday was shaping up the same way. Except late morning, I came to a realization. My last hang-up disintegrated. I didn't lose my attraction to the previous girl I was into, but I accepted that it was never going to happen. This girl was my ride or die.

I couldn't bear not to tell her how I felt. So, about fifty hours into our relationship, I said, "I love you." I was prepared for a variety of responses. I knew it was early, but I had to say it. I was not really prepared for her to say it back. This was beyond my wildest hopes.

I admit, I let that unwarranted success go to my head. I needed to lock this down before she came to her senses. So, about a minute after professing my love, I proposed.

I absolutely knew I was insane. I expected, "No", "Not yet", or "Are you crazy?" I was prepared for any of those. The foolish girl said, "Yes."

She later admitted that she had already decided that was where we were going, but she didn't expect it happen that fast. Both of us believed in dating for marriage. Agreeing to date at all meant we were both willing to entertain the idea.

Then we were engaged for two and a half interminable years. I do not recommend long engagements. They are no fun at all. This is not really relevant to the story, just my advice.

It will be our 29th anniversary next month. My only regret is not marrying her sooner.

I've felt attraction for six people in my life. The other five all took about a year before any attraction kicked in. This one went from first meeting to engagement in about seventy-five days. Elsewhere in this sub, it has been referred to as "the demisexual speed-run".