Wednesday, February 08, 2006

Ode to M

It's Valentine's Day in a week, and M has made our dinner reservation here. This holiday makes me think about what my husband means to me. (WARNING: Major sap alert ahead.)

We met in late 1999. We were introduced and started talking over IM, then progressed to the phone. From the beginning, I loved how easy he is to talk to and how big his heart is. And how fucking brilliant he is. So hard to find. This is going to sound snooty, but most guys I've dated have bored me half to death, because they couldn't keep up with me intellectually. They may have been hot or good in bed or fun, but having a brain was a major prerequisite for me back when I was looking.

We had our first date on October 10, 1999 -- two days after his 27th birthday and a month and a half before my 26th. We went to dinner in the North End, one of my favorite places, and then to the New England Aquarium. Then we went back to my apartment, and I made him dinner, then we watched a movie.

Meeting him scared the crap out of me. I knew if I let him in, that would be it for me. No more dating. No more singledom. And it terrified me. So I pushed him away at first. But I knew if I didn't go for it, I would regret it forever. So we started dating.

We went up to Ashland, NH, to a gorgeous B&B for New Year's Eve. I remember that we stopped in a Burger King to get some dinner. He stopped to get us a map, and I looked over at him. At that moment, I knew we were going to be together for the rest of our lives. I felt it as fact, like how I feel the chair under me as I write this.

So many times, I'd start dating someone, fall head over heels and then spend every waking minute with that person. With M, we took it slow. I had my own place, so he'd come spend the weekends with me in Waltham, then I'd go visit him during the week. We talked on the phone every day. About six months in, he bought the condo, and the dynamic changed. I would spent weekends there, and he'd come visit me during the week. We decided to wait until my lease was up in November to move in together. And the plan was we would get engaged in the spring.

My parents were fine with us living together. My mom's concern was that we would never get married, which neither of us wanted. So one night right before I moved in, we were hanging out at my apartment. He looked at me, got down on one knee, took my hand in his and asked me to be his wife. I don't think I've ever been so thrilled. A few weeks later, I moved into his condo.

We got married on June 2, 2002, about two and a half years after we met. Every picture of my wedding shows both of us glowing in complete and utter happiness. A few months after the wedding, we sold our condo and bought our house, where we've been ever since.

In the six and a half years since we met, we've been through me totaling my car, his illness, hospitalizations and treatments, my bouts of depression, deaths in both of our families and the passing of a mutual friend, tough times, good times. All through them, M has been by my side, and I have been by his. We suffer together, and we celebrate together. We laugh together, and we cry together. He is my love, my partner, my life, my soul mate and the man I was destined to grow old beside. I am grateful every day for him.

I love you, M.
Overthink
Made by My Cool Signs