“When did you know that you had fallen in love with me?” I recently asked Ray. “You can take your time and think about it.”

“It’s when you called me at home in Wichita and wondered if I’d like to stop in Detroit on my way back to Boston after Christmas,” he responded immediately.

“That’s exactly when I knew, too,” I said. “I picked you up at the airport in my dad’s Cadillac and after you got in, I suggested you move closer to me.”

Ray and I had been roommates, and secretly “friends with benefits,” for eight months. In August, we had driven with our other roommate, Patrick, to Michigan to visit my folks. I was 28 and he was 25. We were afraid of naming our relationship and kept it secret from Patrick, whose feelings we didn’t want to hurt.

When we arrived in Boston after Christmas, it was clear to Patrick that something had changed with us. We were more openly affectionate with one another.

An important component of our love life together is the ability to have direct, honest conversations. They’re always kind and careful, and intend to learn as much about each other as we can before we can’t.

We also stop what we’re doing when the other asks a question or makes an observation, whether we’re cooking, brushing our teeth, or reading. There will always be time to read.

“Are you happy?” I asked Ray a few nights ago. 

He’s reading. I wait for him to notice that I’m waiting to say something, he stops, turns his head with a smile, and then I ask the question I’ve been thinking about.

“I’m ecstatic,” he replied. “How about you?”

“I’m not unhappy,” I said. “I have the same reasons you do to be ecstatic, but I don’t wake up feeling excited unless it’s my birthday, your birthday, Thanksgiving, or Christmas. I generally wake up thinking about what needs to be done, what person needs attention.”

“It’s a choice, every day,” Ray said. 

“I know. Sometimes, I have to force myself to smile. It instantly relaxes my facial muscles, and I become more aware of the moment. I recognize I want to be conscious of how happy I really am. I also sing happy songs in the car.”

“That’s great,” Ray replies. “Is there anything else you’d like to talk about?”

“Not at the moment.”

“Is it okay if I go back to reading?”

“Sure. Thanks. Do you like your book?”

He stops, turns his eyes back to me, smiles, and says, “Yes, it’s the one you suggested I read. How about you? Are you enjoying your book?”

“Yes, thank you, I am.”

He smiles.

I’ll then say, “Okay, now I’ll shut up.”

Brian’s memoir, “A Prince of a Boy,” is now available as an audiobook.