As I continued to date Aragorn, something occasionally intruded on my notice. Faramir's smile. The room lit up when he smiled.

One night, Aragorn, Faramir and three other people and I—all close friends—went hot tubbing. We were hanging out and Aragorn was inter-digitating his hand with my toes underwater. I found that passing strange. (Wow! Where did that old time phrase pop out from?) At some point, Aragorn and the other guy involved talked Faramir into flexing for us--which he did with a slightly embarrassed smile on his face.

Um.

My jaw dropped. Perhaps not visibly, but for sure internally. I prided myself on being a girl who didn't get off on looks. But that night my internal-good-looking-gauge went off the charts. The guy was cut. We all made exclamations of course, because he was cut, but I remember being awed, and shocked at myself for feeling that way. That just wasn't me! I didn't react to bodies or anything—or so I thought.

He. Was. Hot.

Aragorn and I started to go south a little. I was getting frustrated that he wasn't what I wanted him to be. I could see who I thought he should be and I was frustrated by the reality. Ultimately, sometime in March, he called me and told me that he could sense this frustration in me and that he was happy with who he was. He wasn't going to be who I wanted. But he did know someone who was who I wanted, and that this person was very interested in me.

I knew before he finished who he was talking about.

Faramir

And I was interested right back.

Poor Aragorn. Not such a nice ending as in LOTR. Once he told me that Faramir was interested, I was done with him. My mind immediately shifted to Faramir. There was not even any real mourning for this ended relationship. I was done and on.

And suddenly, Faramir and I were always together.