There's no real way for me to know exactly what day we--okay, I--finally admitted that what we were doing was dating, but I do know I have a diary entry from July 10th that says:
We were in the back kitchen with Erica. She was forming hamburger patties. BFW had his arm around my waist.
Erica said, "So, what's the deal with you two anyway? Are you officially dating?"
And we looked at each other. I'm sure he was quiet because he wanted to know what I would say. After all, I've been the one saying we're going with the flow, we're taking it easy, we're going to see how things shake out. But I figured it would be silly to say no when, really, that's exactly what we're doing.
"Yes," I said.
"Yes," he said.
And then Erica awwwwed.
Later, when we were laying on my bed and half-sleeping, I said, "Am I your girlfriiiiend?"
And he said, "Yes. Am I your boyfriend?"
And I said, "Yes."
The Boy From Work burrowed into my neck and said, "Because that's cuddle time. I think it's important to have."
The boy was waking up an hour early every morning just so he could be fully conscious, fully aware as he held me tight. If that's not reason enough to sign up for a billion more years, I don't know what is.