He had to repeat the question, and to make matters worse he added, "No Megan, I'm asking you," prior to the repeat to make sure I was focused. Apparently, I can get off topic and lose attention quite easily.
That day was four years ago, and while four years may not seem like a very long time to spend dedicated to another individual, in the grand scheme of my life, its nearly an eternity.
Our four year anniversary gave me a chance to reflect on life, not to mention it was a great excuse for a lunch date with my male counterpart.
When the lunch date was over and I was back at my desk, I took a second to look back at the crazy, fun ride that is our life.
Reviewing the past four years, I realized the only thing constant — was him.
I've known for a majority of my life now that I'm a pretty impatient person. What woman isn't?
We're talking the kind of impatience that makes me give gifts a day early simply because I can't wait another day. Impatience that helps me swipe my debit card for that pair of shoes, since I don't want to wait for them to go on sale.
I'm even a reporter because I'm impatient. I can't wait for today's news in tomorrow's paper. I need to know now.
Not only am I impatient, I think it's safe to say I'm driven to see what's next. I suppose that has something to do with being impatient.
While some people take more than the allotted four years to complete college, I was impatient. I got out in less than four.
Since I've been old enough to drive, I haven't even managed to keep the same car for four years. In fact, I've had four different cars. In the past four years, I've lived in two different locations and held three different jobs.
When it comes to styles, forget about it. Curly, straight, long, short, blonde and dark, I can't even keep the same hair style for four months, let alone four years.
I'm sure you're beginning to wonder how I've kept the same guy around for four years now, aren't you?
Well, I'm not sure what the answer to that is, but he must be one patient guy to put up with my impatience.
While patience may be his virtue, my impatience has left for some memorable stories in our four-year adventure.
During his two-month internship, thousands of miles away, I got impatient and hopped on a plane.
That dog we talked about owning one day, turned into two furballs consuming the majority of our bed each night.
Those projects around our home have been checked off the list, even if the bathroom got painted yellow when he was hoping for blue.
And while my impatience may not always lead me to the best conclusions, I'm sure glad I found a patient man to keep me around. Not to mention one who is patient while I often publicly humiliate him in this very column each week.