So far I've blogged about my kids, my friends, my mom, my therapist, and even Goren and Eames. If you don't know who Goren and Eames are, you can either reference blogs past or give it up--they're only the greatest team of detectives ever.
But today, I want to pay homage to the man in the other room. When I first met my husband, it was August of 1996. I met him in a chat room. Yes, a chat room. In 1996. When he first came to visit me that January of 97, my coworkers warned me of potential homicidal tendencies. The pressure was on. Despite crazy moments during that visit (including a minor meltdown by yours truly in a restaurant bathroom), our visit was nice. The fact he didn't run away screaming when I took several minutes to compose myself right after we met was a positive sign. We came back to my place and he sang karaoke.
He was comfortable in his skin. I wasn't. I believed I was smart but not good at the dating game. He didn't care. He just wanted to meet people. And the more we hung out, the more I appreciated that in him.
Our last day together he bought me a calendar I wanted and we spent some time on the beach, hanging out and singing together. He left and I considered him my friend.
The next several years, including the rest of our dating time and the first years of our marriage, were composed of two people finding themselves. I believe that this is true in most relationships, and the reason most relationships fail. There were several times that we both were done. But for some reason we hung in there. I guess we're not quitters.
We both have made mistakes over the years. Sometimes, big mistakes that were threats to our marriage and stability. But we manage to get through. We've been married now for ten years--eleven in July--and looking back, I can't imagine my life any other way. Despite his goofball sense of humor, I love him so. He's truly my best friend and fulfills things in my life in a way no other person can.
We have differing interests, different friends, different ideas on a lot of things. That's okay. We have some similiarities too. We love our kids. We see things very similarly politically. We support one another's dreams. And we've grown up together.
As a child, I had a dream of Prince Charming. I think most girls do. That dream should be shot and killed, in my opinion. It sets girls up for a very unrealistic perception of marriage and what's required to make one work. Not every husband takes care of his wife in the same way. And not every wife cares for her husband the same as her neighbor would care for hers.
My husband has a wicked sense of humor. He is compassionate. He loves children. He is passionate about things that make a difference in his life. And he's an all-around good guy. He loves me, and I know that. He has achieved dreams that he didn't know he could...but he plugged away until it got finished. I am proud of him and I love him dearly.
I never pictured my life ending up this way. I always planned my life on the east coast, with a man who fawned over me and gave me a child and a house with a white picket fence. Our life is not like that--not nearly. But I honestly can say I don't regret a minute of it. This man has enriched my life and I love him for it.
Kisses, baby. I love you.