Cade and I celebrated our "anniversary" about a month ago, but I don't really think it was appropriate. A year ago on that day, we met in front of his office building to embark on a date that will go down in my personal history as one with the fewest sparks, the least like a romantic comedy I'd never watch but wouldn't mind living, the beginning of a relationship I never saw coming. Not as bad as the one when a guy told me he'd been on Jerry Springer (I don't disbelieve him), so obviously believing that tidbit should impress me. (It didn't). But no fireworks, no instant animal attraction, no chemistry...or physics.

Sunday was the real anniversary. A year ago, we'd spent the weekend together in Philadelphia. "This is a test," I told him before he picked me up Friday night. "Should we still like each other Sunday night, I guess we're boyfriend and girlfriend." He'd inquired after watching an online profile section of mine remain "Single," though he'd switched his to "In a relationship."

The weekend was beautiful - warmer than this last one has been and warmer than today. Cade and I took a lot of pictures and laughed and honestly, experienced the smoothest weekend trip of our relationship. When we got back to New York, I changed the profile and my attitude. I wanted my life to be different, but I wanted him to stick around.

I guess this is what spring is about, what so much of my life right now is about. I still want to be here. Even on the worst days, I wouldn't want to be anywhere else. But I need changes. Big changes. I want to grow in a different direction. To be transplanted, if you will. I want new blooms in the same garden.