Last night, history was made.

I've long prided myself on the ability to chastise others for crying during movies. Sure, I've teared up from time to time. But I've never straight up cried or come close to weeping.

Yesterday was a frustrating day for me. I went to finally pick up my car and they said there was a new problem, that they believe existed before the crash and AAA wouldn't cover it. I spent a day arguing and being frustrated, two things I don't like to do. Just days after Dan's car was totaled by a drunk driver, I just felt like the universe was against us and it wasn't fair.

I came home grumpy, exhausted, and generally spent. We returned our rental car, went to the post office and finally made it home, in my car that is still broken. I sat on the couch and stared at my computer for a while. Dan seemed to be all over the place. Finally I realized the shower had been running for a while. When I asked why, Dan said he was rinsing out Drano he'd poured in earlier. I thought this was weird, since we don't have a clog or Drano, but I was too tired to question.

A few minutes later, he had started the kettle, and asked me what kind of tea I would like, "Awwww, you made me tea?"

He got the tea and said, "Come with me."

He led me into the bathroom where he had run a bubble bath, my robe standing by for when I was finished.

He brought a table lamp into the bathroom so the lighting would be softer than the overhead light and brought in a radio, playing the CD of some French composer. He set the tea down next to the tub, fetched the giant In Style magazine he ganked from work for me and said to relax.

I was blown away by the sweetness, even if it was to benefit him in the long run by melting away my bad mood. :)

After the bath, he had to work, so eventually I settled in the bedroom to watch one of my knitting movies and work on a blanket I was hired to make weeks and weeks ago. "Knitting" movies are A) often movies Dan wouldn't want to watch, B) nothing you have to concentrate on too much and C) generally pretty cheesy.

On the menu last night was "P.S. I Love You" starring Hilary Swank, Gerard Butler, Lisa Kudrow, Harry Connick Jr., Kathy Bates, etc.

The premise is this: Holly is madly in love with her husband of 10 years, who she rushed to marry after meeting him on her study abroad trip in Ireland at 19. Ten years later, he dies of a brain tumor and she is crushed. But it turns out before he died, he arranged to have all kinds of letters and messages sent to her, arranges a trip for her to go to Ireland with her girlfriends, etc.

I won't share anymore details in case you feel like you need a good cry at some point (and a good laugh -- there were a few), but just know that I lost it. I don't know what percentage of it is simply being tired, and stress and having this sweet man do something amazing for me and what percentage of it was finally being in true love, to the point where I just can't imagine what I would do if he died.

So, I came out of the bedroom, crying.

"Do you want to witness history?" I asked, pointing to the tears streaming down my cheeks. I went on to explain, but I was trying so hard to choke back really losing it that I struggled. So, I tried to cover it with a laugh and made myself a cocktail as Dan looked on in a look that seemed to be part confusion, part amazement and part a look that was replacing him shaking his head.

So, I cried and kissed him and cried and kissed him. "I just don't know what I would do if you died." Every time I emerged from the bedroom, I had to swing by the couch for more of the same.

I guess it makes me realize I'm a really lucky girl, in many ways.

And they should put warning labels on those things: "Do not watch this movie if you are in a fragile emotional state and/or suffering from exhaustion. It will not be pretty."