Not many people can say this.  But it’s true.  I, Dean, think I’m in love with my EMT.  You are probably thinking, “how does one get an EMT let alone fall in love with one”?  Well for me, I fell in love with my EMT the very moment that he stepped foot into my apartment one morning over a year ago…

I’m not sure if it was his navy-colored uniform that made me fall in love with him or if it was the way he looked deeply into my eyes as he put an oxygen mask over my mouth.   Or it could have been the way he held me close to his body as he pulled me out of my bed.  Most likely though, it was all the drugs that he administered on me that morning.   Either way though, it doesn’t matter.  All I know is that it was my EMT who caused my heart to pump a little harder that morning…

It was a dreary Saturday morning.  (Actually, I have no idea if it was a dreary day or not.  But it feels like an appropriate way to start this story.)  I had suffered from a back injury, a slipped disc, that left me literally paralyzed in my own bed.  I could not move any part of my lower body.  I couldn’t roll over.  I couldn’t sit up.  I couldn’t do anything.  The pain was so bad that I had to call my friend and ask her to come over and rescue me.  The chain on my front door had been locked and my friend actually had to purchase a set of chain cutters to break into my apartment to get to me.  (Fortunately, I now own a very expensive, top-of-the-line, pair of chain cutters.  They are quite big and look very dangerous.  There’s no doubt that any boy I show these chain cutters to would certainly be impressed.)

Once my friend had successfully broke and entered into my apartment, we deliberated for nearly 30 minutes on what we should do.  I mean what does someone normally do when there is a paralyzed person stuck in bed?  You call 9-1-1!  That’s what you do.  Everyone knows that.

Well, we knew that calling 9-1-1 was the right thing to do, too.  But for whatever reason, we were just too afraid to pick up the phone and make that scary call.  Had I known though that my EMT would be so beautiful, so perfect, so dreamy, he undoubtedly would have been the first person I called that morning.  In fact, I would like to call him every morning now.  But that’s besides the point.

I was at my absolute worst that morning.  My hair was a mess.  I had no make-up on.  I had morning breath.  I had been crying earlier from fear and my eyes were puffy and swollen.  There was nothing about me that was attractive.  And of course, the morning that I was looking and feeling my absolute worst, was the morning that my beautiful EMT saw me for the first time.  It was love at first sight (for me anyway).

My EMT was so calm and collected when he approached my bedside and I was as flustered as could be.  But not because of my back pain or because I had to pee so badly.  I was a mess because there standing over me was the most beautiful EMT I had ever seen.  And there I was, hopelessly lying in bed, not able to move.

My EMT hero took control of the situation and carefully lifted me out of bed.  There we were.  Face to face.  My morning breath blowing in his face.  My hands draped around his neck.  His hands firmly gripped around my waist.  I held on to him tightly as he slowly walked me down my long hallway…and into my bathroom.  It was quite a moment that we shared together…as he lowered me down onto the toilet.  And as much as I wanted and needed to pee, I didn’t want him to let go of me.  I wanted that moment where my EMT was holding me, to last forever.

Much to my disappointment, and lack of memory due to all of the drugs I was on, that moment that I had so wanted to last forever quickly came to an end.  He lifted me off the toilet, carried me out of my apartment in a stretcher, and whisked me off to the hospital in his ambulance.  My friend told me that my EMT did come to visit me later that day in the emergency room but I was too drugged-up to notice.

From time to time I still see my beautiful EMT parked in his ambulance outside of the Starbucks in my neighborhood.  One afternoon, I even mustered up the courage to speak to him.  I approached his ambulance while he was sitting in the front passenger seat, sipping on a latte and munching on a glazed donut.

I couldn’t be happier that day when he told me that he remembered who I was.  He even told me that he had always wondered what had happened to me that “dreadful” morning.  My happiness quickly turned to sadness though when he didn’t do the obvious right thing and ask me to marry him.  He didn’t even ask me out on a date for that matter.

I don’t get it.  My EMT and I shared a really special moment together and he never even attempted to ask me out.  I mean, really, could there be a better love story than ours?  I think not.  Now I fear that my dream of us driving away from our wedding ceremony together in an ambulance with a sign that reads, “Just Married” might never happen.  It’s a sad reality and I am thinking that I may have to move on to someone new.

I’m thinking now about moving on to surgeons.  I know that they don’t drive ambulances, make house visits, or wear those tight-fitting paramedic uniforms.  But supposedly surgeons make great husbands. I know this from watching Boston Med on Thursday nights.

And to my EMT:  If you happen to be reading this and ever want to practice your CPR skills on someone, call me.  I promise that next time you rescue me, I’ll have minty fresh breath.