OUR STORY

This piece appeared in the now-defunct fashion and lifestyle magazine, Man Repeller, back in 2018. I submitted it in response to the open prompt, "What's your unconventional love story?"

To my surprise, the publication commissioned a portrait of Bryan and me from one of my favorite artists to run alongside our story. This is by the wildly talented Mexican painter Ana Leovy. It now hangs above the mantle in our South Philly home. 

Tell me about your relationship with Bryan, from when it started to now?

Bryan and I both lived in a South Philly neighborhood full of divey, grandfathered-in smoking bars, patronized by old Italian dudes who toke cigars and call you “angel face.” I met Bryan at my favorite of these haunts while I was — funny enough — on a date with another person. We hit it off immediately. After exchanging numbers, we started seeing one another.

Fast forward one month.

One weekday, I decided to bike to an early doctor's appointment. Halfway through my ride there, a box truck took a sharp right into the bike lane, knocked me off my bike, and drove over my lower body. The truck tires crushed my hips, ribs and foot, leaving me crumpled in the road. 

I was lucid enough to remember it all. Wiggling my toes and thinking, OK, I'm not paralyzed. The driver of the truck who told me he thought he had run over a curb (the “curb” was my body). The flurry of bystanders, police, surgeons and doctors who swam in and out of my vision from the scene of my accident all the way to the trauma unit. The big South Philly dude who — in a simple act of tenderness that still makes me well up writing it — kneeled to the ground, and with no words, simply held my hand until the ambulance arrived.

One state over, Bryan was at work, completely unaware that his role in our relationship was about to shift from boyfriend to caretaker.

Why is your story a love story? What have you learned from it?

The way that Bryan jumped right in and cared for me during such a scary time was so selfless and tender and gentle that I start to cry a little every time I consider the magnitude of it. He didn’t think twice.

Bear in mind we were only one month into a new relationship, so after my accident, things escalated quickly. We went from doing “new couple” things — like cooking dinners and seeing movies — to him changing my bedpans, dressing my wounds, and giving me sponge baths. It didn’t phase him one bit. In a situation that would have certainly weeded out less-dedicated suitors, he stuck around.

He slept multiple nights in a row next to my hospital bed on those awful chairs, a hand-hold’s distance away for when my pain got bad. He cooked warm meals for my family and me, transporting precarious stacks of Tupperware by bike to the hospital. He endeared himself to my nurses, bringing surprise bags of Taco Bell over the night shift. He surprised me with sparkly nail polish, and sat at the foot of my bed and painted my toenails because I couldn’t sit up to do it myself. He helped keep my spirits high during the scariest time of my life. 

Once I was stabilized, I spent over a year re-learning how to walk. Bryan was there every step of the way: from my shaky first steps at the inpatient rehab to the day I returned my wheelchair; and through all the less glamorous parts of recovery that consumed this year.

Now, five years later, I am proud to say that Bryan is my husband. We share a beautiful life and home together in the same neighborhood that we met, just us and our sweet old lady dogs. Every day I think about how lucky I am. 

If you could write a one-sentence love letter to Bryan, what would you say?

Love is easy with you, Bryan.