It was either grade 8 or grade 9 Valentine's dance at school that he first asked me out. Things were rather official back then. One of my friends had talked to him and asked me what I would say if he asked me out. I said I thought I'd say yes. She went back and talked to him again, and then he asked me to dance. I don't remember the song, but it was something slow. And that's how it all started.
We celebrated our 10th anniversary this week.
We "went out" for a couple of years in high school, but, you know, when you meet the person you are supposed to marry at age 14, but you're horribly immature and not even close to being ready to get married, things are doomed. I'd say we broke up, but really, it was me that broke it off, and him who would never give up. I like to joke that I married my stalker. That's not really how it was, but he just wouldn't give up on us. It drove me nuts, to tell you the truth.
I think it's a good idea to spend some time not in love with the person you eventually marry. You get to see them as they really are, not through the optimism of romance. You know what you are getting into.
Eventually we got back together, but it wasn't the official thing it had first been. We just spent more and more time together, and then more and more time together and then ALL our time together. We gently fell in love again.
I was 21 when we got married. He was 22. I still lived with my parents, and was halfway through university. We had to wait until one of us got a job so we would have somewhere to live other than mom and dad's before getting married. His job wasn't stellar (he hated it), but it paid the rent. The first few years were tough. We had no money, and even less money management skills. We always seemed to slip between the cracks of everything there was to help people with low incomes. We lied on our student loan applications just to get enough money to put food on the table. I think I was rather tough on him, too, because I knew that we were building patterns that would last the rest of our lives. A young idealist, I wasn't about to be stuck in the housewife role, cooking and cleaning, but I'd certainly let him do all the mechanics, and dirty work.
I could go on and on, but I have a 2 week old and a 3 year old, and precious little time for reminiscing. Ours is a long and twisted story, with plenty of ups and downs. We've come a long way, baby. Long gone are the conversations, hopefully joking, about if we split up I'd get the computer and you'd get the truck. Do you believe in fate, destiny? This is just the way it was meant to be. I feel it in my bones, like you always have. Happy anniversary, honey.