I saw a meme the other day that perfectly captured my relationship with my future husband. I can’t find it, no amount of googling has made it resurface, so I figured I’d blog about it.
The night I met my fiancee is stuck in my head like an award winning movie. I can almost remember what I was wearing… (dear god, I hope it wasn’t that outfit… I looked like a green disco ball.) I’d just had surgery to remove my gallbladder four days before. I’d broken up with my flake of a boyfriend that morning. All I wanted to do was go hang out with friends, then come home to be alone. But when you meet ‘the one’ things are always as expected. I loved being alone, but life is way more fun with him around…and I love that more.
I Knew He Was The One When I Realized Life Was More Fun With Him In It
Here’s the thing about where I was at that period of life…
I used to go through cycles. I’d be amazingly confident, totally at peace rocking my single girl pants, and then it’d happen. I’d get the dating itch. So I’d go on every date asked of me. Oh. Dear. God. The stories! Some day I’ll write a book about bad dates, but hey, most of the time I got to try a new place for dinner, so win some, lose some. Anyway, I was just exiting a dating frenzy phase, and the only thing I wanted to do was be alone.
I did not want to date.
I was happy by myself.
I was busy.
I had a fulfilling career.
I was writing.
I’d just adopted two senior cats.
I was looking forward to my twenty-something status as a crazy cat lady.
And then this guy crashed into my life. He wrecked my perfect plan.
I figured this wouldn’t last long. They didn’t seem to. I mean, after a while I’d get tired of the togetherness stuff and I’d go back to happy, single me. Honestly I was pretty much ready to embrace that as my status in life. Happy and single.
There’s nothing wrong with that.
In many ways I’m a smidge jealous of that way of life. It’s a very freeing way to live. Some might call it selfish, but to me it’s an adventure.
But here’s the thing: the longer I was with the guy…the more content I became. I enjoyed being alone, and I enjoyed being with him. After about two years it seemed silly to not co-habitate, so we took the plunge. I’d never had a relationship last that long, so why not give it a whirl? It was another adventure.
I learned something very important in that first year of truly living together.
I enjoyed being with him, as much if not more, than I enjoyed being alone. By myself.
Let me say this even more plainly, I enjoyed being around him more than I enjoyed being around myself.
I liked this person more than I liked me. And if I’m honest, I’m pretty awesome. I’m the girl who’ll belly dance sober on a table at one o’ clock in the afternoon. I like random road trip. Taking home strange, wild creatures of the four legged variety. I mean, I’m pretty neat to be around. And yet, there’s this person who I like as much as myself.
I’d heard a lot of people talk about finding their spouse, the person they love, after they stopped looking and I hate to say it, they were right. I didn’t meet my guy until those moments when I was most at peace with who and what I was. Then he had to come wreck it. And I’m okay with that.