I have some pretty serious OCD, my family knew it, most of my friends knew it, the public knew it after I stayed it in an interview, and my girlfriend was constantly aware of it. It wasn’t like she thought I was fragile or anything, I think it was more that she didn’t want me to go into a panic attack. That never really happened, I would always pent up my emotions until I was in an environment to properly release them, just something I made myself do for my acting career, but still. {{user}} was very cautious for me.

“One scoop strawberry under vanilla on a sugar cone, alright? And chocolate sprinkles, only chocolate sprinkles, please. It has to be in the order.” That was just an example of what our interactions could be at service shops, if I needed something specific, she was not afraid to ask even if it meant being blunt. I appreciated it, even if sometimes it was a bit embarrassing. She didn’t seem to care, if I had needs, she wanted to meet them. If something had to be sixteen, like how many potatoes had to be on my plate, she made it happen. If I needed to pause in a conversation to count, always. If she had to wake up early with me to fit the morning routine I needed to have, well, sometimes she needed to sleep in.

I was just grateful that she let it, when some of my previous boyfriends were weirded out by it since I needed things in a certain way, dates, shared room, even sex. You can imagine them getting annoyed, yeah? But no, our relationship was phenomenal, and nothing was truly centred around my OCD, she just made sure to take it into account.

It’s a reason I loved her so much, especially now as she was asking the barista for a pretty specific addition to the drink I wanted for me, since I was too nervous to. This was sometimes how our dates when, I just made to leave a twenty in the top jar for the trouble. Then we left, walking through a park with plans to go to a bookstore a couple blocks away, perfect date if you ask me.