Part 1: So I met this guy...
February is a special month to me. (No, not because of Valentine's Day...but I DO love chocolate...) In February 2004, the planets lined up just right for me to meet someone that turned my whole world upside down.
It was my freshman year of college and I was meeting friends to go out. My girlfriend, Katie, brought her boyfriend, Josh. Josh brought some arrogant guy that way too into his car. His name was James. Our initial encounter included me almost backing into his super cool car...then running over his foot when he got out to see if I'd hit it. I know, I know...you're jealous of my super smooth flirting skills.
Our initial assessments of each other, ("She is so stuck up, dude." "He really thinks he's something, huh?") did not do anything to deter our fate. We ended up being forced into awkward conversation after finding ourselves alone while everyone else was mingling. That turned into an all night conversation from which no one could tear us away from, and yet we were still loathe to admit that we were in any way attracted to each other. That didn't stop us from simultaneously harassing Katie in the weeks to come for assistance in "running into" each other again.
We ended up dating. He met my parents. They were not amused by my new "phase." In their defense, my dating history consisted of 4 years with Mr. All-American. Y'know - straight A's, straight-laced, good-looking guy, played football, went to church every week. They were unprepared for tattoos, a lip ring, ear plugs, a loud car, and smooth talking tall, dark, and handsome. My dad's career in juvenile corrections made him wise enough to know that preventing me from knowing he even had an opinion was the safest way to help my "phase" pass quickly. My mother, on the other hand, has always believed that the world is a better place all around when she shares her opinions. (THAT'S where I get that from...) And share them she did. Loudly. And often.
And yet, by 2007, wedding bells were ringing and he was a well-loved part of the family. I had suffered through his ex-girlfriend drama, and he had suffered through my mother. He had suffered through me being in a sorority, and I had suffered through his jealousy. We both had suffered through spending a small fortune on gas and losing sleep while we traveled back and forth from home and my university to see each other regularly. None of it mattered. We were in love, and not the fairy tale kind - the messy, impractical, die-before-letting-go kind.
Ten years later, we still laugh at how it all turned out. We look at our kids and think "if you had told us about this THEN...we never would have believed it." But our love is still messy and impractical. We would still die before letting go of it.
We don't compare ourselves to other people because that's not "apples to apples." No two marriages are the same and mine doesn't have to look like yours to be a good one. I sincerely hope no one compares theirs to ours because you'd go crazy trying to figure out how two border-line Italian lawyers like us make it work year after year.
So sometimes when you're staring at the hubs, picturing his head bursting into flames...all you gotta do is remember that first kiss, and it takes you back enough to kill the urge.
Here's to the growing process that is love! Now, go smooch your hubs!
♥M
No comments:
Post a Comment