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We can be quiet together, and pretend—since it is only the beginning—that we have all the time in the world. August 3, 2009

Posted by Sparkel in I kinda love my life, M, realizations.
1 comment so far

Realizing that the way you feel about a belief or a passion or a person is changing does not happen unless you have a full comprehension of where you’re coming from.  Obvious right?  And yesterday I realized that, while I have been in love with M for almost six years, I have never been what could be described as “comfortable” in that love.

I am comfortable with him.  Neither of us walk on eggshells, we are honest, we argue, we’re mushy and affectionate.  I’ve been aware of the good he brings to my life, of the respect and admiration he inspires in other people.  I’ve gotten to know him very well, and he’s gotten to know me.  I am still learning things about him all the time.  He is still very capable of surprising me.  And I’ve been waiting for the other shoe to drop.  I hope beyond anything I have ever hoped that we spend the rest of our lives together, but I haven’t  allowed myself to believe we will.

I think I’ve been afraid of settling in to being comfortable and happy in my relationship with M because I’m afraid that the second I do, something horrible will happen.  But I also think it’s in large part because it is only now that M and I are entering into a whole new part of our relationship, where we not only love and want each other, but we like each other and respect each other almost unequivocally.  We rely on each other and trust that no harm will come purposely from the other.  It’s something that can only come with time.  Isn’t that the argument against ‘love at first sight’?  That you can only really love someone with time and really getting to know them?

I think the best analogy for a relationship is the concept of learning a very complicated, intricate dance.  You’re stumbling around each other for a while, then when you feel you have the hang of the steps, you still need to learn how to coordinate around and with your partner.  And then one day, you’re dancing together as you always have, but something just clicks and settles, and suddenly you’re moving as a unit.  It’s easy and fun and you have faith that, should you stumble, your partner will catch you.

I have faith that M and I would have gotten here whether we decided to marry five years ago, or if we wait until five years from now.  But there is something about the thought of marrying M after this comfort level has been reached that, cheesily, makes my heart sing.  I feel as though I can relax now, and the future will take care of itself without forceful interventions from my insecurities.

We went curtain shopping yesterday and walked around the appliance section at Sears, discussing our wants and likes for the house in our future.  We laughed and made fun of each others tastes and agreed and disagreed on things.

As we walked through the parking lot to the car, he asked what I think we should get his sister as a gift for her baby.  I shrugged and said I don’t really care, it’s his nephew, he can pick.  He took my hand and said “its your nephew too, my Tina, like it or not.  What’s mine is yours, and that includes family.”

Someone chose me to be his family.  This knowledge has finally sunk in, and I could not be happier.

Spoiler Alert July 24, 2009

Posted by Sparkel in M.
4 comments

It is no secret to anyone who knows me that I have been eager to get engaged pretty consistently for the past year.  I’m not sure exactly why it hit, but I peruse wedding photo blogs and think of my wedding vows in bits and pieces and may have even picked out a dress and potential location.

When I have brought up marriage to M, he has stated, in no uncertain terms, that he is not ready.  And won’t be for a while.  When pressed for a timeline of some sort, he’s sort of shrugged, looked uncomfortable and said he doesn’t really have one.  At first I was just quietly disappointed.  Then a friend got married.  Then M’s brother got engaged.  Then M’s sister got married.  And suddenly I was thinking about it more than ever, wondering why M wasn’t thinking about it, and feeling generally hurt.

Now, granted this is all a big fat case of putting the horse before the cart because we do still live with his mother and sister, and the housing market is still staying stubbornly low so we cannot sell our house and have no idea when we can, so we’re pretty much stuck for the time being.  I’m also not finished with school, and just got an entry-leved job in the career I think I want to go into.  M is done with school, but is looking for another job and would like to make more money.  Realistically?  We’re not ready.

But emotionally I am, and want to talk about it.  To have some idea of when it will happen.  And, most importantly, to know he is looking forward to it just as much as I am.

We’ve been on the exact same page for the entirety of our relationship, starting from just wanting to have fun, nothing serious, to realizing “oops, I accidentally fell head over heels in love with you”, to being committed 100% to each other and deciding to move in together.  It’s been mutual every step of the way, up until the topic of marriage came up.

Or so I thought.

Now, M made it seem like he wouldn’t be ready until we are maybe 30.  (Well, when he is 30 and I am 29.)  Which means we will have been “dating” for twelve years before getting married.  Which maybe shouldn’t matter, but I find it RIDICULOUS and nauseating.  Why the hold up??  We love each other, we live together, we know it will happen eventually, so what gives?

I’ve grown increasingly frustrated and a few months ago reached a point where I thought ‘okay, if it’s going to be SIX YEARS until we get married, I’m gonna cross some things off my little bucket list in the meantime.’  I told him over dinner one night that I think we should take a step back from being so serious and we should both pursue other interests and dreams before we settle into marriage.  He wants to move to El Salvador to work after we sell the house.  I would love to live in New York or see if I can live in Europe for a year or two.  I told him that maybe this only means we are better suited for each other than we thought because we can pursue these dreams while having a long-distance relationship and come together in the end feeling happy, fulfilled and ready to be married.

Oddly, he kind of panicked and rejected this concept.  He said that he wanted us to stay together, long-distance was a bad idea, open relationships (also brought up to ponder) is an even worse idea, and we might end up just selling the house and moving to an apartment anyway so lets not talk about this future stuff yet.

We got into a fight last weekend, and somehow the topic of him not looking forward to marrying me came up (how womanly of me :D).  I was near tears as I told him that I never thought I would get married, that it was a tradition for masochistic suckers and fools.  That getting past my parents horrible example to the point where I actually LOOKED FORWARD to marrying someone was a flat out miracle, and that the only bump in the road to happiness being that the person I want to marry is DREADING marrying me?  Just a tad hurtful.

And he took a deep breath and said “look.  I wanted this to be a surprise, and you’re ruining it for yourself…”

And proceeded to tell me his plan to propose.  When and where.  And the plan?  Is perfect.  It’s what I hoped but never hinted at because I knew if he paid any attention at all he would know it is how I want it to be.

I probably should have stopped him from saying the details because I would have loved the surprise factor of it.  But I’m actually quite fine without a total surprise.  I don’t mind spoilers for TV shows or books, and while this is my actual life, just knowing there is a plan at all?  And he’s been “thinking about it for a while”?  I’ve been over the moon since he told me.

Iit won’t happen for a while, as our present is still exactly the same.  But I’m suddenly so excited about the future that, up until a couple weeks ago, seemed uncertain and kind of bleary.

Just like I would never actually CALL my mother Voldemort… July 20, 2009

Posted by Sparkel in M, realizations.
1 comment so far

I’ve often found it remarkable that there are people in our lives who we encounter briefly or who we dislike, but things they have said or qualities they possess pop into our minds more often than those we care deeply for or see every day.  Some of the most random, seemingly insignificant things can be the most haunting.  Why is this?

I believe I’ve written here before about my relationship with my mother, or lack thereof.  Clearly a mother, in most cases, is not a person with an impact one could consider brief.  I see the effect my mother’s behavior has had on my siblings, how it has molded their tempers and behavior in relationships.  They both speak to her much more frequently than I do and are less tolerant of her outbursts.  I feel that I have internalized harsh words and the marriage between my parents as more of a case study.

The conclusions I reached were obvious and simple; name-calling and the use of nothing but “I” and “you” when trying to sort out differences of opinion are bad.  Violence escalates.  Yelling makes everything seem worse than it probably is.  Bringing up old fights in new fights is not only counter-productive, but annoying and frustrating for both parties.

You can never “unsay” anything.  Even if you apologize, the damage is done.

Once you learn something, you can never “unlearn” or “unknow” it.  And some things are better left unsaid, no matter how true they may be.  That the truth doesn’t set you free because words can hurt, especially toward and from those we claim to love the most.

For the most part, my relationship with M has been…not fight-free or angst-free or frustration-free.  We argue and bicker and fight like any normal couple.  But he comes from parents who fought in silence.  If one got mad, they would ignore each other (sometimes for months) until the feelings passed.  My parents were, clearly, the opposite.  No insult was left unsaid.  Their only regrets were the really amazing comebacks and names that were thought of after the fact.

M fights like his parents.  The surest way I can tell he is angry is if he doesn’t respond when I speak to him and leaves the room when I enter it.  It’s a bit annoying, sure.  Okay, that’s not true.  It’s HELLA frustrating and I’ve often reached the point of getting in his face and asking him if he’s seven.  But he has never called me a name.  Never yelled at me.  Never hit or pushed.  Never said anything that wasn’t true, just out of spite or anger.

I on the other hand…  I try my best.  I really, really do.  I know myself well enough to tell when the mean words and biting insults are brewing and popping up on the tip of my tongue.  We got into an argument on Saturday over something domestic and stupid; he cleaned the bathroom for the second time in a row, which I thought was the plan after I cleaned the kitchen during the week while he napped on the couch.

The thing about M not explicitly stating why he’s angry has actually been something of a bonding experience.  Because he won’t tell me when I ask him, I’m forced to guess.  He’s very Dumbledore-esque about wanting me to figure things out for myself so fights can also be learning experiences.  And because I’m forced to use subtle hints and re-trace my steps, I’ve gotten to know him almost telepathically.  I need to argue, need to talk it out in order to move past fights.  He would rather ignore me until he’s just not mad anymore.  So, I end up basically arguing with myself right in front of him.  I state his side, waiting for almost imperceptible nods or head-shakes, and then begin my defense.

We went out for dinner as planned after I realized he was angry about having to clean the bathroom and I was PISSED.  Didn’t I clean the whole kitchen, which wasn’t even my mess!, while he SLEPT???  Did I get angry? Did I say a word? NO!  And wasn’t is agreed that he would clean the bathroom anyway??  HOW DARE HE!  I am NOT his goddamn MAID!

The point of this extremely tedious post (my sincere apologies and thanks if you’ve made it this far!) is that I had *ahem* other…thoughts…too.

The mean, nasty thoughts that would feel SO! GOOD! to say at the time. You’ve convinced that they’re true, they’re warranted, they’re deserved.  The pain you would cause with these words is going to be the sweetest justice you dole out this week.

I told M one of them.  One of the nicer ones, mind you, but a very nasty thought.  I regretted it immediately, eyes-welled with tears, reached across the table to grab his hand and apologize profusely.  This was about more than hurting my best friend and love of my life in a moment of anger.  This was my mother’s lessons coming to the forefront of my mind and me being weak enough to resort to a quick fix for ME and MY frustration, instead of what is best for US, as partners who would very much like to spend every day together, til death do us part, without needing to forget careless words in order to do so.

With Harry Potter fresh in my mind, I’m reminded of a quote from Dumbledore to Harry; “it isn’t how you are alike.  It’s how you are not.”

I realize I’m comparing my mother to VOLDEMORT, which seems…well, oddly appropriate at times.  But that quote encapsulates perhaps the most important lesson of my young life.

And I say “young life” because I don’t imagine I will spend the rest of my life trying not to be my mother, trying not to have a relationship as destructive and loveless as the one my parents have.  The fact that I knew, through my anger and pride, that my mean, horrible thoughts were not necessary, means I have already distinguished myself from her.  No matter how right or justified or true these thoughts probably were at the time, saying them out loud would not help either one of us.  We both have flaws and constructive criticism can help anyone, if applied correctly.

The difference between my mother and I is that I understand that the best love is unselfish and compromises.  And that difference makes, well…all the difference.  Not in the end, but in every day.

Adventures in Luray July 7, 2008

Posted by Sparkel in I kinda love my life, M, traveling.
1 comment so far

Apologies for the semi-depressing last post. I’ve been in a funk for a while, but I’ve decided to jet-propel myself out of it.

This weekend helped some. M has been talking about going to Luray Caverns for months, and we finally went Saturday. I figured we really only needed a day to get there (2 hours) take the tour, stop by Skyline Drive on the way back for a few hours, and then drive home, but M really wanted to stay overnight, so we did. Actually M wanted to stay all three days, but I a) couldn’t and b) thought it was overkill. We moseyed our way through the tiny town of Luray, got some grub, then saw the caverns. They were pretty impressive and all, but does it bother anyone else when “natural wonders” are made completely commercialized? There were light fixtures all over the place, and the floor is paved. The final straw for M and I was when one of the tour guides turned an organ on from a switch inside one of the stalagmite formations. I mean, what the hell? Who wires stalagmite? We just cracked up. Also, the tour guides? Utterly useless. One girl took five minutes to shine a flashlight on two stones to not only tell you that they resembled a “sheep dog” and “flying camel” (?), but she took the time to point out “the leg………….the other leg………the tail………..” It was ridiculous. Nothing about how it formed, what will happen while they still form, even details on how they turned it into the tourist trap that it is. Just “this is what we think this looks like. Neato, huh?”

Also, does anyone else get aggravated at people en masse? I’m not trying to come off like a serial killer or anything, but every time I’m around more than say, twenty people at a time, I feel angry and annoyed by every little thing that everyone does. They tell you all over the caverns to not touch the formations, and everywhere you look some idiot is caressing one of them. There are these beautiful pools all over the place that are filled with coins. COINS! This is made even more incredulous by the fact that there’s a designated part of the caverns that is called a wishing well and is meant for people to throw coins, but apparently the visitors are not only too stupid, but have just waaay too much money. “Oh honey, look, a puddle. Surely we can toss $10 in pennies inside, and all our wishes will come true!” By the end of the tour I was just wishing for blinders and felt some not-so-secret satisfaction when a kid whacked his head on a guard rail while he leaned over to rub a stone.

Either I’m not fit for society, or society is not fit for my admittedly-high standards. (AKA common sense and respect for others.)

We went to Skyline Drive yesterday and M wanted to see a waterfall. So he saw a sign that he swears said “something-something-falls,” so we stop and start walking. Three and a half miles later we arrive at a stream that sorta-kinda-but-not-really flows down through a few rocks at one point. I don’t know if M’s waterfall was just farther down or in fact imaginary. All I know is that hiking the three miles back uphill while on meds pretty much sucked. I think I lost a lot of M’s admiration and respect due to my constant huffing and puffing and “can. we. PLEAAAAASE. STOP!?” and “WHY OH WHY DO I LISTEN TO YOUUU?” rants. He offered to carry me piggy-back, probably assuming that the normally sweet and stubborn and “oh no, you take the last piece” loving girlfriend he thought he knew would insist on walking so as not to put him out. Because when I stopped and grinned for the first time in an hour and charged at him with a gleam in my eye, he had the nerve to stick his hands out, eyes wide with horror, and push me away insisting “see, you just ran! I knew you had it in you! Come on we’re almost there!”, then walked on at a faster pace, assuming that my rage at his piggy-back teasing and subsequent sudden NEED to kick him would cause me to practically chase him to the car. There’s no drug like adrenaline? No. There’s no drug like “I’m going to KILL. YOU.” womanly anger.

I realize I didn’t make it seem like it, but the weekend was a lot of fun. We also saw Wall E (so! cute!) and bonded even more (which didn’t seem possible.) And needless to say, we’re both happy to be home.  Though whenever I go on a trip, even one a mere two hours away for two days, I sort of expect time to stand-still while I’m gone.  So when M woke me up at 6:15 this morning and said “we gotta go,” I squinted at him and angrily demanded “where?!”  M: “…work…”  Me: *blink blink*  “What happened to Sunday?”  *pause* Ohhh the hike…”  Nuff said.

Hope you had a good weekend too!

Maybe I AM a gift! May 2, 2008

Posted by Sparkel in M, meee.
2 comments

Conversation with M today, after an argument last night about getting over things:

M:  I do love you, but I just wish you would stop punishing me for things and bringing things up.
Me:  Okay, fine, you know what.  This is the realization I came to last night:  we are going to be just like any other couple.  We don’t need to be special.  We don’t need to be sweet and loving and sorry when the other one hurts at all.  We can just say “hi” and “bye” and “whatever” to everything else.  Dates don’t need to be wonderful, and sex doesn’t need to be meaningful.  I mean, animals have sex and it’s no biggie to them, so why should we be any different?  I am not special, and you are not special, so from now on I am going to treat you like you’re not special at all.
M:  Oh, you’re special all right.
Me:  NO I AM NOT.  I am just like any other girl.  Actually, I AM SPECIAL!  And you know what I’m gonna do?? I am going to save all my specialness for MYSELF.  I won’t show you or anyone else.  I will be special when I’m alone, and relish my awesomeness and as soon as someone walks into a room I will turn it off.  That’ll show you all!
M:  It sounds like you’re just tired of people not treating you like the gift that you are…
Me:  Exac-WHAAA?  Oh no you just didn’t!
M:  *laughing* oh come on, you have to admit, that was funny.
Me:  You know what, I am like Paula Abdul in the sense that it’s one step forward, two steps back with EVERY SINGLE PERSON IN MY LIFE.

K-La and Euey April 21, 2008

Posted by Sparkel in it is looove, M.
2 comments

The fact that I am a wee bit clingy when it comes to M has long been a source of angst, amusement and arguments. There are times when I literally feel like I just cannot get enough of him. I realize it the most when we’ve just had a fight. My mind will inevitably wander, I’ll forget we were fighting, and I’ll go to hug him or cuddle or put my arm around him or hold his hand. He’ll laugh, comment on how irresistible he is, and I’ll jerk back indignantly only to repeat my affectionate gesture a few minutes later. At some point during the first year we were together he stood next to his bed and said he was going upstairs and I responded by throwing my arms and legs around him from where I sat on the edge of the bed. He laughed and stroked my hair and said “my little koala.” It turned into an inside joke over time, where he calls me “K-la” (because my name also begins with a “K”) and I call him “eu” or “euey” (pronounced “you” as in eucalyptus tree) when I’m clingy or overly-affectionate.

I’ve often felt simultaneously lucky and a little strange because I am in a relationship with someone who I always want to be around. I knew from the beginning of our relationship that I had it bad when I always felt like hanging out with him or calling him. I get tired or bored of other people if I spend too much time with them, but it’s like I’m insatiable when it comes to M. I have friends who have good relationships and friends who have not-so-good relationships. I’ve observed the marriages of my parents, relatives, friends parents and perfect strangers. We’ve been deemed everything from “adorable” and “inseparable ” to “unhealthy” and “codependent.” I have not gone one day without speaking to him in more than four years. I haven’t gone a day without seeing him in two years. There was a period in 2006 of about three months where we worked together and practically lived together to the point where we woke up together, drove to work together, worked together, ate lunch together, drove home together, ate dinner together, watched tv or read or studied together, and fell asleep together. I slept at my apartment alone maybe two nights a month. And I missed him. To the point where it would have been more than two nights if I hadn’t given up after tossing and turning and quietly walked the two minutes between our apartments to slip into bed with him at around 2 am. To be greeted with one extended arm and a “you couldn’t sleep either?”

I neglected all of my friendships for a long time. I was convinced that living with M would solve the problem. “I can come home to him, so it’ll be the best of both worlds!” I have gotten better, but I still have moments, mainly when I’m out with large groups and feel somewhat awkward, where I either wish he was there or just wanna go home and curl up next to him.

I’ve been thinking about this since M and I watched that episode of the Real Housewives of New York where Alex brings her husband to Girls Night. (PLEASE tell me you’ve watched it! That episode made my day, snark-wise.) Granted M and I are not that bad. I know enough to keep him out of girls nights, and he knows enough not to come. But as Alex defended her relationship, saying she likes to spend time with him so “of course” she wanted to bring him, M and I looked at each other and said, simultaneously, “oh my god, that’s us.”

After reassuring each other (and ourselves) that we are in fact, into our own things, are capable of spending time apart, and have our own people, we are not as bad as Alex and Simon.

Last night M and I were watching the Office and he said “hey, we’re not the housewife people.  We’re totally Jim and Pam.”  Does he know what it takes to make me swoon or what?

Still, do I think we’re a little strange in our co-dependency? Absolutely. But would I have it any other way? No.

Smiling April 8, 2008

Posted by Sparkel in M, meee.
1 comment so far

I asked M if he has any pictures of me hanging around anywhere, and he said yes. I gave him a knowing look, and he smiled and said “in my memory.”

Me: *sad face* “…”

Then, M sweetly laughed and said “you know why you have such a pretty smile? There’s something about your mouth, where you just make the most perfect expressions.”

I laughed, happily surprised, and said “how does one have “perfect expressions”?

M: “Your mouth just moves in a really perfect way. Like, you draw a smile or you draw a frown on paper to look like yours look. When I frown, my face doesn’t frown, but your mouth goes down so it really looks like a frown. It’s so cute.”

Me: “No one’s ever told me I have a pretty smile. Everyone makes fun of me for always smiling in photos, so I always assumed I have a cheesy smile.”

M: “No, you have a pretty smile. You have a perfect smile.”

…aaaaaaaaand I’m still smiling 😀

Hallmark aint got shit on me February 8, 2008

Posted by Sparkel in M.
7 comments

My Dearest M:

It’s our four year anniversary!! Part of me can’t believe it’s been that long and the other part can’t believe there was a time we didn’t know each other. I must say, the effect you have on me is amazing. I can be having the worst day, feeling miserable and sad and lonely, and then you do something simple, like walk into the room, and it doesn’t seem so bad. How do you do that? How did I get so lucky? You’re the best person I’ve ever known. I ask you all the time to explain what it is you see in me, why you think we work. I know it gets old, but you always comply, always tell me your version of our story with a smile. You’ve given me so much to appreciate and be grateful for. I know I can be a little…difficult at times. But you never give up, you’re never, ever mean, and in my heart of hearts I always know that you love me.

Thank you for your patience. Like when I spend all of my money for the thousandth time and bemoan what a failure I am. Not only do you assure me that I’m not one, you tell me what’s good about me. Things I don’t think anyone’s ever noticed. And that you have faith I’ll do better. You’re so good at making me feel like I can do anything. Then you offer to lend me money. I mean, really, is there anything sweeter than you?

Thank you for trying. We have such different personalities, you and I. Such different needs and wants. But you notice my needs, you take inventory of my wants, and then you try to make me happy my way, even though it doesn’t come natural. Even though it means doing things you hate. Even if it means buying Starbucks, which you loathe, or buying flowers, which you honestly think is pointless. Or like the time I was so happy watching my new Laguna Beach DVD’s that I didn’t even remember that your game was on. But you did, and you didn’t say anything. You hate Laguna Beach and love basketball, and when I asked you later why you didn’t just tell me to turn them off for a while you said “because you were happy.” And even though you made a joke about “not wanting to wake the beast within,” I knew you did it because you love me. You’re the only person who can make me feel that you love me. Sometimes it comes off of you like heat, and I never feel warmer or safer.

Thank you for all the little things I’ve never thanked you for. Remember when I used to make spaghetti and we’d eat it in my room on the floor on a blanket, picnic-style, so we could have privacy? And we’d drink kool-aid from wine glasses because I thought wine glasses were sophisticated, but we were too young to buy wine? You never laughed or made fun, you pretended right along with me. You hate yourself in pictures, but that didn’t stop you from buying me a nice camera. And obligingly smiling whenever I aimed it at you or us. You’ve always insisted on paying for dates. You still open every door in my path for me. Four years later, and you’re still the perfect gentleman. Four years later and I’m still the luckiest girl in the world.

Thank you for giving me confidence. Not a day goes by without you calling me beautiful. I feel wanted and admired with you. I feel intelligent and amusing and fun. I feel special. You ask for my advice. You laugh at my dumb jokes. You want to be around me. No one else’s eyes light up when I walk into a room. I’ve never thanked you for that, but I gotta say, nothing makes me feel better. No one makes me feel more than you.

I’ve tried here and many other times and places to put into words how much you mean to me. I will keep trying, but I admit that I cannot do you justice. It would take the rest of my life to list every little thing I love about you and gush to the extent that you deserve. And you know what? That’s fine by me. There is nothing I would rather spend my life doing.

I am so proud to call myself your girlfriend. And so giddy at the idea of one day being your wife. You’ve handed me happiness on a silver platter, and I hope I never forget to thank you every chance I get.

Thank you for all the flowers, stuffed animals, jewelry and cards.
Thank you for the little notes and emails.
Thank you for the shoulder, the rubs, and for wiping my tears.
Thank you for being my sounding board and conscience.
Thank you for making me your favorite person.
Thank you for supporting me.
Thank you for accepting me, warts and all.
Thank you for taking care of me when I’m sick.
Thank you for always being on my team, for making every effort to be my partner.
Thank you for telling me both what I need to hear and what I want to hear.
Thank you for taking such good care of my heart.

Thank you for sharing your life with me.
Thank you for being my best friend.
Thank you for letting me love you.
Thank you for loving me.

Thank you for the best four years of my life.

The story of us January 21, 2008

Posted by Sparkel in M.
2 comments

There’s nothing really new going on that’s worth posting about, except that M’s and my four year anniversary is right around the corner (squee!) I’ve been reminiscing about the beginning of our relationship a lot lately, so today I will write about how we met and how I knew I loved him.

WARNING, large amounts of cheese ahead…

Before M and I got together, I dated a few guys and had unrequited experiences with a few more. The relationships were emotionally unsatisfying or the guys were just jerks or my feelings were never reciprocated, which left me concluding (as many overly-dramatic 18-year-olds do) that maybe I just wasn’t going to find HIM. At least not for a while, and not with the “I want a boooyyyyfrieeeennndddd” mentality I had for a few years. So, I decided to wash my hands of finding a love and thought “if I meet a cute guy who I can hook up with, great, otherwise I am focusing on my girls.”

Naturally, this is when I met M.

Actually, we first met while I was with one of the not-so-great guys. He was a friend of a friend, and we met at a club one night. We danced, sparks flew, my imagination ran wild, and then we didn’t see each other for a good four months. When we met again, I knew I wanted him to be my “hook up.” We were both quiet (him much more than me) which led me to assume that he didn’t even like me as a person, mostly because my friend went on and on about how flirty he was with everyone. I tried to ask him questions, he responded with one word or a nod. We went to a party he invited us to, and I got drunk and confessed to my friend that I wanted to kiss him. She shrieked and insisted on getting us together. I insisted that I only wanted a casual fuck buddy relationship, and she said she was sure that wouldn’t be a problem.

She told him I was interested and (shockingly) he was excited and said he was interested too. That he thought I was “really hot” and “so sweet” and wanted to hang out ASAP. We hung out a couple more times with friends before he quietly asked me out. I walked him to his car that night, and he gave me a big hug and kiss on the cheek. We went to the movies the next day. Held hands, grinned nervously the entire night. I kissed him when he dropped me off, and he was SHOCKED, which led me to think that maybe he thought it was just a friend thing. He called the next day to insist that he was interested, and we went out again and he more than made up for the first kiss.

We never had a talk where we defined what we were. We saw each other more than a few times a week from that point on. We called each other and talked for hours when we couldn’t see each other. He was so nice and different from the other guys I’d liked. He was shy and sweet and such a gentleman. Opening doors, letting me walk ahead of him while putting his hand on the small of my back, insisting on paying for everything, sending me flowers, buying me candy.

It was much more than I thought I was looking for. We were together like that for about a month when my friend asked what we were. I said I didn’t know, but that I really cared about him. “But do you looove him?” she jokingly asked. I smiled and imagined his face, and replayed some sweet things he’d done, and thought of how no one has ever looked at me the way he did, that no one laughed at even the stupid things I said like he did, that no one ever made me feel giddy and excited just by thinking about them, and realized “oh my god…I think I do.”

My friend: “WHAT?? Dude, I was kidding! It’s been like a month. And you said you just wanted a hookup!”

But I knew, right then.

M’s version is sweeter. And kind of makes me feel guilty. He told me not too long ago, “I don’t believe in love at first sight, but what I felt when I first saw you is as close as I think anyone gets to it.” He liked me from the very first night. The mutual friend who introduced us had a thing for him, which he knew, so he strategized a way to ask her about me without making his feelings obvious. He had lunch with her the day after we met, and she told him I said he had pretty eyes. (“That was the one piece of hope I had to go on.”) He met up with her over the next two months a few times a week (they shared a class) and always made sure to work me into the conversation. He asked “subtle” (my friend “whatever! Completely transparent 😀 ) questions about me, my interests, what I was up to. She told him I was dating someone and contemplating sleeping with him, and questioning whether I loved him. (Unfortunately, this is true.) He was disappointed, and decided to wait and see if we broke up. He’d ask about my relationship, and when it didn’t seem like we would break up, he decided to “put it behind him” and move on.

Thankfully, I broke up with the guy about two weeks later.

When M heard we were done, he asked my friend if she’d come to a club and bring me along. He wasn’t as shy that night. He smiled at me a lot, opened my door, asked me to dance a lot. I remember there was this really cute guy standing near us, and he was looking at me. I smiled at him and he started to walk over when I felt M take my hand and he asked me to dance. (M: I saw that guy and thought “hell no guy. I had to wait long enough!”)

He claims he was so surprised when I kissed him because he was still in disbelief that I agreed to go out with him and assumed I thought it was a friend thing. My friend says she knew he had some serious feelings when she told him I was interested, but only wanted something casual and he seemed disappointed. (“I swear K, I told him you just want to hook up and he sounded SO SAD and said “oh…do you think she might want to be something serious at some point though?” I mean WHAT THE HELL??”)

I heard his version of how we met after we’d already said our “I love you”s, and while I believed him when he said it, I don’t think I REALLY believed it until I heard his story.

So that is how we became us.

I’m impatient. She’s just an idiot. January 10, 2008

Posted by Sparkel in annoyances, M, meee, to friend or not to friend.
7 comments

I just found out that one of my…I guess former friend now…got engaged five months ago. Two weeks into her relationship. She lives with her mom, and invited the guy to move in with her the day after they met. I’m all for spontaneity and romance, but come on! It’s ridiculous. And she knows it’s ridiculous, which is why she’s kept it a secret for four months. Her words: “don’t tell anyone cause I know how it looks.”

Truth? I’m not jealous of her relationship. I’m not jealous of anyone’s really because I’m happy with mine. But as more and more people I know get engaged and live together (just the two of them) and have babies, I feel a pang. I honestly feel that I and most of the people I know are still too young for this stuff. (She’s 24, so she’s not too young in my eyes. It’s just waaaay too soon.) But I can’t help but want it.

Last night M and I were talking about getting engaged. He said “finish school. That will be your motivation. I promise, I will propose to you the day you graduate.”

I protested that I want a romantic surprise. And then proceeded to grin like an idiot off and on for the rest of the night.

It’s the first time he’s said “I will propose to you.” I liked the sound of it.

I can wait. I know I should, and focus on making a good life for us when we are married by working hard now. Sometimes I pretend the promise ring he gave me for our first Christmas is an engagement ring. I’ve always worn it on my left ring finger, and have been asked more than once if I’m engaged. I’ve also said yes more than once, just to see how it feels. It feels good, I won’t lie.

*Just to clarify, I don’t think every person who gets married quickly is an idiot. I have a lot of bitterness toward her because when I told her I kinda wanted M to propose, she said it was too soon in our relationship. After we’d been together three years.*