It's my husband.
He has tolerated more bull shit from me than anyone should have to. Seriously.
All of the weird pregnancy cravings. The crying fits because I couldn't find socks (his favorite pregnancy story to tell people). Working away from his family so we can have everything we need or want. Pulling endless hours at work. This list goes on and on.
Don't get me wrong. The past twenty years hasn't been sunshine and rainbows the entire time. In fact, a large chunk of it was spent angry, depressed, and arguing. (You can read about that here.)
Our is a love at first sight story. Yeah I hear you groaning, but it's true.
The minute he walked into the bar where I worked, I saw him and knew right then he was the one I wanted to marry.
When he didn't hit on me, after countless openings, I didn't become discouraged. I kept advancing and before he left, I asked for his phone number.
I waited a whole day before I called him. I was pretty proud of myself for not succumbing to the urges to phone him immediately that night. I was strong...
We talked for two hours that first night. It wasn't deep or meaningful, I couldn't even tell you the topics of conversation, but it was a start. Any logic left my body.
He was my dreamboat in Wranglers, a black felt cowboy hat, and cow skin boots.
He picked me up for our first date in his Chevy Blazer. He conveniently left out that it was older than me, had no exhaust, and rust everywhere. Turns out, I didn't care.
After dinner and drinks he brought me home and we sat in his truck and talked. I will never forget it. Here's how the conversation went.
B: There's something I need to tell you.
Me: Who is she? I'll kick her ass.
B: *chuckles* No, it's not like that at all.
Me: Then what?
B: *snickers and waits*
Me: C'mon! Out with it.
B: *smiles his smile that still makes my eyes flutter and my belly swim*
Me: You're married? You're a criminal?
B: Nope. *long dramatic pause* I'm gay.
Me: No you're not!
B: No, I'm just 20.
Me: Jesus! Seriously?!
I met him in a bar, and am not a pro at spotting fake IDs. He's said he was 23, just a year older than me. It lied! So his big secret was that he was younger than me.
He courted me for weeks, walking me up to my door, kissing me good night, and leaving as gentlemanly as he had been on all of our dates. No advances, no innuendos, nothing.
In my adult life, I hadn't dated (nor slept with) anyone like him. It was like the old cliché: Hook, line, and sinker.
That started the best love story of my life.
Twenty years later, sometimes we forget those moments, but you can see them now and again under a veil of looks or touches or words.
Sometimes, I'm not a very good wife to him. I think most marriages go through that. Ours goes through it often. When depression sneaks in and I can barely function, let alone cook a fantastic supper, it dulls everything around me, including the love of my life.
After several (early) years of hearing, "Just wake up and say, 'I'm going to be happy today' and you'll be fine," or 'Depression isn't real," he finally came to the realization that it is indeed real and his wife suffers from it.
Clicking the link above will take you to that side story. Oddly, love endures.
He still does the little things to make me feel special. I'm working on trying to remember to do the little things for him because I want him to know he's one of the reasons I get out of bed every day.
He's given me three of the greatest (albeit sometimes hair-raising) gifts on the planet and my life wouldn't be the same without him in it.
Yes, it sounds like a sappy love story, and it is, but it is much more than that to me.
It's a reason to live.
~Kim
photo credit: Wedding Rings (license)
Cowboys In The Dark (license)
No comments:
Post a Comment