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With expediency, we relearn that our fathers are both dead, that our Italian families’ ancestral villages are miles from each other, that we both love . I discover that, as a child, he saved stacks of newspapers in his garage like an aging shut-in; he comes to know that I once nursed a paranoid fear that restaurant employees were adding bodily fluids to my food. I can’t lie to him about even tiny things, as we all do on first dates. It’s not as hard, and much more fun than I thought, to relinquish our shared past.In response to the rise of these issues we have decided that it's time to keep any Romance discussion out of all Public Chats.Don't get your knickers in a twist, because this actually makes sense, if you are honest about it, so hear me out please.•━━━━━•➒¾ :zap: ➒¾•━━━━━•Romance will only be allowed in blogs, polls, favorites or quizzes for the canon Harry Potter characters from the canon Harry Potter story, for example Harry and Ginny, and potential SHIPS like Dramione.•━━━━━•➒¾ :zap: ➒¾•━━━━━•To be listed in the App Store and Google Play, Amino has to have a PG13 rating, and that means the content of our community must not go beyond that rating.•━━━━━•➒¾ :zap: ➒¾•━━━━━•It is time that this community focuses on the real reasons we are here, and that is to share the magical Harry Potter story and fandom. :dvd: No Kissing :dvd: No more than a friendly hug :dvd: No romantic discussion.All that considered, we are changing a few guidelines, and editing a few to include more specific details.
Realizing we’ve both revealed something truly new, we have a laughing fit that draws the ire of a nearby couple. I also know I can’t really f-ck this up, no matter what I say. Most important, I’m fully present—I have to be, in order to remember what not to say—and I’m not worried about what I look like because I know he already thinks I’m sexy (the dress is helping).I have been in a happy, monogamous relationship for almost a year. This sounded scary, titillating and like it required rules. If one of us referenced something from our shared past, we could alert the other by snapping an elastic band on their wrist. I got angry with myself for being so emotional about a silly experiment. He goes to the bathroom and I text him something filthy; he responds, “Can’t wait to see you tomorrow,” playing along like a good boy.My boyfriend is a goddamn treasure: handsome, sexy, funny, smart, kind. He is Italian, yet covered in beautiful freckles; his hair is auburn with a touch of grey at the temples; he’s athletic but not a bro; he thinks I am beautiful and worships my body, but he likes my brain more. We like rules, because we like bondage play (hi, Mom! In this way, the date would have a playful punishment rush to it. I cursed and cried, and then drank a glass of wine and put on a low-cut red dress I never would have worn on a first date with anyone, let alone my already boyfriend. When we leave the bar, we kiss for the second first time and I’m surprised at how intensely it registers, like any first kiss would. Two months earlier, my boyfriend and I decided that, for our anniversary, we’d skip the usual BS of flowers and candlelit dinner, and meet again for the first time. The rules were as follows: we would pretend we knew nothing about each other and that we were meeting all over again, from small talk to first kiss and beyond. I felt like I was cheating or like he had died or like I was dead. And then, there he was, sitting in the same New York bar he sat in a year ago: the guy I knew but didn’t know. Soon I am rubbing my foot against his leg, and my third wine is blurring the line between the real us and the re-date us. That collision of tenses is not a mini stroke, nor am I a time traveller. It’s a combination of factors that makes for the consummate first date.