I had my first dream about Robb. Oh, man. It was so great.
We were on a date at a Mexican restaurant, one we had never been to in our life together. He kept getting up to 'work the room', leaving me to eat chips and salsa by myself.
That's very unlike Robb, by the way. He preferred for me to not make eye contact with other people when we had a night alone together, so he would never, ever have left the table to chat with other guests.
But you know. Dreams.
The thing is, I didn't even mind. I loved watching him, milling about in this Mexican restaurant, chatting and mingling with confidence and a great laugh. There was no sound in my dream, but I watched him laugh. And you can glean a lot from watching laughter, I promise you.
He was wearing shorts, naturally. (He wore shorts 300 days of the year.) He was wearing a great shirt. He looked so great; he had such charisma, such confidence. The kind that's so naturally attractive.
I just watched him, with my chin in my hand.
He kept coming back to sit across from me, and still I just watched him. I remember thinking, "I didn't think I'd get to do this again. I just didn't think I'd get to do this again."
I woke up smiling.