I first met my husband on his 24th ( NOT 25 as previously written. I ALWAYS think we were 25...) birthday, in the Spring of 2005--
Didn't like him very much.
My friend had dragged my to this karaoke bar to because she wanted to say hi to a friend of hers who was celebrating his birthday.
I did not know this friend.
I did not want to go out.
I did not look cute.
I was over bars.
But, she was not the kind of friend who heard the word "no".
So she showed up at my apartment and dragged me out anyway.
I meet this guy.
I am not impressed.
He insults my righteously awesome Cats (as in the Musical) tee shirt.
And? He wear khakis.
I do not DO khakis, folks.
But I keep running into this guy...he's cute, but sorta obnoxious. I can tell it's because he's kinda nervously awkward, and just wants to be funny, which is kinda charming, but there's a lot of bullshit in his presentation and I'm not sold.
Besides, he has no tattoos.
I love tattoos.
And? In addition to khakis?
He wears sweater vests.
Sweater vests? HONESTLY?
Prep-tastic. I don't DO preppy.
We're sorta buddies. There's a little flirting, like the kind between all men and women in a social setting, but it's not with intent-We are not each other's type and I'm not sure I'm over the guy I had been dating previously.
[I should be, because he's a asshat who keeps flipping between me and this other chick (who he eventually married), but I'm being all wifflewaffle-girly about it....]
I keep hearing a lot of shit about Kaptain Khakis:
This girl, and that girl, and THAT girl and so on....
I'm not so much for manwhoring, but at the same time?
We're all adults. If he's sleeping with several women, that's his business.
I'm not his girlfriend, so what's it to me?
But it does kinda bother me.
I don't DO Casual.
It's now late August-
Hanging out at the Karaoke bar I was once dragged to, but now frequent...
He and I are sitting at a table, talking. Drinking. Laughing.
All of the sudden, the bar is closing. How did that happen?
My friend, who I came with, wants to go somewhere else.
But I want to go home.
He offers to drive me home.
I don't take rides from men.
But, for whatever reason, I agree...
We sat in front of my apartment talking for a long time.
I like him. He's funny and sweet.
Best of all? He's intelligent.
All bravado is gone and it's just him.
He asks to come in and use the bathroom.
I do not invite men in.
But, for whatever reason, I agree...
(my roommates were home, and they would have killed him if need be)
He's saying goodbye.
Promising repeats of tonight.
Maybe we're actually friends now...
All of the sudden, he is kissing me.
I was not prepared.
He is all khaki'd and casual.
I am soooo NOT.
But he ends up staying the night anyway.
[Found out? Has Tattoos.]
I am mortified.
I am NOT that kinda lady.
But there are some things you can't undo....
I convince myself that maybe I SHOULD be all Casual.
I can be casual. Psssht.
So we agree to start seeing each other. Casually.
I am all over this, because I am SO over being the devoted girlfriend who gets shat upon.
Easy, breezy! That's me.
Except it's not.
I get attached. I care. It's hard for me to let people in, so when I do?
It ain't fucking casual.
By late October, I break it off.
You know, before it gets complicated....ahem.
I tell him that casual doesn't work for me.
He's all hurt/pissy about it, but not enough to get serious.
We can still be friends....
He avoids me.
I stay out of his way.
He eventually confronts me.
But nothing changes.
He doesn't want serious.
Friends it is!
But not really.
New Year's Eve comes and we end up at the same party. Great.
There is partying and drunkeness and making out.
With his friend.
This was not purposeful. He was my friend too. He made me laugh.
It was New Years Eve.
So we made out.
Happy New Year!!!
[Spoiler Alert! That friend? Was a groomsman at our wedding. We adore him. He still makes me laugh, but there is no more making out. That would be frowned upon. We rarely see him, and that's a bummer.]
The next day?
When he showed up at my apartment, wanting to know what the HELL was going on between me and ___________?
I was a tad surprised. By a tad? I mean quite.
Where's your khaki'd casualness NOW, sir?
There was nothing casual about the ensuing conversation....
Even so, I did not believe him.
I sent him away. I did not trust his intentions.
But he was persistent.
And we ended up a couple.
We were in love. Intensely. It was kinda gross.
We start talking about futures.
Walks of the aisle sort.
We shared a closet and a medicine cabinet and a bed.
We shared everything.
We felt like home.
For almost year, it was perfect.
It was a holiday weekend.
I desperately needed the time to relax.
My family was going through a clusterfuck of out-of-CONTROL problems that I apparently was supposed to fix, my professional life was going up in flames, as I was being denied the rights to my own work, I was broke, oh, right...I was pregnant.
I hadn't told him yet.
I was waiting for the weekend....
There was a fight.
He was picking it on purpose, I could see.
But I didn't want to fight....not on this, of all weekends.
But he kept pushing.
Then there was packing of stuff.
I didn't understand.
He didn't either, I could tell.
Then there was apologies and driving away.
I was devastated.
I never told him about the secret I was carrying...
I'm just not that kinda lady.
I miscarried the next week.
I was heartbroken on all levels.
There were no clear explanations, no resolutions.
Just confusion and hurt.
That turned to anger and resentment on both sides.
We decided to close the door, and never look back.
(as best we could)
For almost year, it was over.
He was dating someone else.
I was moving far away.
We were moving on.
We were never going to be a permanent Us.
Then the phone rang.
He wants to talk.
I do not want to listen.
He keeps calling.
I am not willing.
I am afraid of being open.....
He comes over.
He explains. Explanations that might be too late.
There is crying. His tears and mine.
He gets on his knee.
Asks the question.
I send him away.
He doesn't know what he's asking.
This is dangerous and I am terrified.
He is humble. But, adamant. Resolute.
He will not give up.
For many reasons, I say Yes.
There is a walk...of the aisle sort.
A lot has happened to us and for us since then.
We are not the same people who met at a bar.
Or walked down the aisle.
We do not have the same love as we did then.
It is even deeper.
Today is our 3-year wedding anniversary.
I feel like it's been 10 years...
(I said that to my husband this morning and he threw something at me...)
I don't mean that in a a negative-shackles/chainy kinda way, I just mean:
It feels like we've always been together.
That togetherness has not always been easy. Or so much together, as you have read.
But looking at the life we are building and the son we are raising?
I know it's right.
I love you, Querido.
Thank you for choosing us over anything else every day.
I hope we make that same choice forever.