We finally got up with the sunset, and by the time we made it to china town it was threatening to downpour.

I'd never had soup dumplings, and I'd never met the other 5 people who crowded around me -- but once we sat down it was like I'd always been part of the group, like there was nothing else any of us usually did on a Wednesday night but this.

The tower of food was enormous and no one laughed as I clumsily tried to get those little blobs of amazing from the bowl to my mouth instead of onto my lap.

He held my hand quietly under the table as our appetites began to wane and I'd catch him smiling at the side of my head as I chatted up his friends about whatever we did or didn't have in common.

We all tumbled into the alley just as the rain hit its peak, and ran covering our heads between each overhang on the way back to the subway.

In the train we cuddled together and smiled. Strangers passing and commenting on how happy we seemed together.

We went back to his couch and beamed into his webcam, calmly planning out what we'd do the next night. Who we'd see, where we'd go, what had to happen before I left the city.

It was like what we were had always been, like everything was ours and not just borrowed, broken and fleeting.

And maybe it's my favorite first date because it didn't feel like one. Because it was one of the only moments in my life I just automatically felt like I belonged. Like I didn't have to try so damn hard, or look into anything or anyone too much. No stress on what to wear, the right and wrong things to say. How long to hold in or hold out on any particular trait or story. I just got to be.

And that, you know, that was a nice first for me.