We worked together at the same restaurant. Matthew, a server, and me, a cook. We didn't speak much in the beginning and it actually took Matt breaking his arm and not knowing how to wear his sling properly to strike up a relationship. We began frequently chatting about his recovery then about life, our interests, our likes and dislikes and we clicked. One night, after I drunkenly sang Celine Dion's "My Heart Will Go on" at the top of my lungs in his car, we were inseparable.