two years later June 24, 2009

** Please do not read if you don’t care for girlish sap, Thank you**

Two years ago yesterday was my boyfriend and my first date. Quite naturally as nothing I tend to do ends up average or sensible, neither was this experience.

It was his five year high school reunion and he wanted an attractive date in order to bother his ex-girlfriend, most notably their class president who was to be running the show. We were co-workers and good friends so he asked me to go, but I originally said that I couldn’t make it as it would be the last day of my three week road trip out west with my best friends, so he asked another girl to join him. Soon thereafter I came to the profound personal conclusion that I was frankly head over heels in love with him. However I didn’t want to make a move before I left for my trip, so I didn’t say anything, even at the party we attended the night before I left, and there were so many ample moments to spill my guts or pounce on him in the yard, I refrained, and it was painful.

While on the trip I thought of him daily, and spent my nights texting him for sometimes hours, talking about the craziness we got into that day. Near the end of the travels I realized that once I got back into Wisconsin, if I left the next morning and drove all day instead of visiting with my family that I could get back in time to go to the reunion with him. So he told the other girl that she didn’t need to go with him after all. Though it might make me a bad daughter to skip out on family time, I still consider it to be one of the best decisions I ever made.

The trip up to his home town was awkward as I spent every moment in my head trying to think of the ideal way to tell him that he was my soul mate. The reunion was even more awkward as it included meeting old friends, his cousin Dustin, and most notably his ex-girlfriend, who played nice but was visibly not pleased. We spent the time sitting in the back making sarcastic comments and jokes on her behalf as she so desperately tried to “make the reunion fun”. At a point she asked who had the youngest baby, and without missing a beat John raised his hand and asked “Do fetuses count” right as I was drinking my vodka cranberry. I knew he was for me.

We went back to his parents’ house afterwards (they were away for the weekend), and it was there that we went outside to relax and have a drink, so I mustered every ounce of liquor induced courage and told him how I felt, it was eloquent, dramatic, and emotional. When I finished he paused for a moment, blinked and responded with merely “ditto”. What an asshat.

We spent the remainder of the evening going to a show of his cousin’s band and then went back to his parents house. We slept on separate floors and he didn’t try a thing, not even a kiss. It wasn’t until our return to his apartment the next day that we finally had our first kiss. It was exciting and new and strange because we were such good friends, in time we got over the weirdness, pushed through it really. And a month later when he confessed his love for me I responded only “ditto”, though I had wanted to shout it out for months.

I write this knowing that John’s a sneaky bastard and he not-so-secretly reads my blog, but I’m beyond caring about being vulnerable and putting my feelings on the table with him, he’s the only one who I have ever been able to say absolutely anything to in my entire life, and I love him more than I thought it was possible for someone to love another person.

Now we’re happy, two years later and barely a fight or real argument. There is no pettiness or jealousy, only love and trust and compromise and constant laughter. This is real, and I’m so eternally grateful that I never let myself settle on someone else, though it would have been simple, but I never would have had even a fraction of the joy that he gives me everyday.

I love you John and I couldn’t see myself spending the rest of my days with any other person. Thank you for pushing me to actually believe in myself and thank you for always being there every moment that I have ever needed you. Thank you for just being you, and loving me as I am, no matter how rough, crass,  or unapologetic I may be. Thank you for finally letting me be me, I love you more than I can ever appropriately convey.