But I love him.
We met when I was 20 years old & he was only eighteen, barely, in August of 1995. I had just been kicked square in the heart & ass by my very first "adult" relationship & was in a lot of overwhelming emotional pain. I had been shattered into a billion (still seems like too small a number) pieces & I did not have the time or the emotional strength to handle another relationship. But there he was, all six foot two of him. Eighteen year old, soul patch having, Shaggy hairdo wearing, college freshman. And scrawny; I'm pretty sure I have outweighed him most of our relationship (I'm not bitter). He was an obnoxious little flirt in 1995 & still is, almost fifteen years later. That's part of the reason I fell for him. I was having such a horrible time getting past my feelings of loss, rejection, & pain from my previous relationship that I couldn't see how anyone could possibly be attracted to me or want to spend time with me. I had been dumped, after all, & for someone else at that! I wasn't good enough; I did not deserve love. Surely he would see that, this little freshman man-child that kept flirting with me. Sitting across from me at lunch everyday with the same Ron Jon Surf Shop hat & band jacket (hey, don't judge, we all wore them). He would see how worthless I was, I thought, & he will go away too. Don't let him in, even though he's made you smile & feel warm inside for the first time in months....
Well, he didn't go away. He asked me out on our first date: the Phi Mu Alpha Homecoming dance. One of the reasons I fall more in love with my husband every day is he remembers the exact day of our first date. I remember it was October & 1995, but I can never remember if it was the 26th or 29th. But he does. I remember being so nervous & not being able to figure out why. He's just a kid & we're just going to this dance to have a good time, I thought. That night, October, whatever, 1995 would change the rest of my life. We didn't spend much time together for most of the night. It was weird, kind of like when you "go" with someone to a junior high dance & you spend more time with your friends than the person you "went" with. But then, near the end of the night, he pulled me on the dance floor; he held me close. And I felt every cold, awful, sad, painful feeling I'd felt for the longest nearly five months of my life disappear. I felt safe & I felt like I was home.
Our relationship for most of the rest of our college careers was rocky, at best. The details are ridiculous, & seem so stupid now. We broke up seven times (ridiculous, I say), mostly because, no matter how much I wanted to, I could not shake my feelings of inadequacy & pain. To top it off, I had no closure from the other relationship (still haven't, by the way) & part if me continued to hold out hope that he would come crawling back to me, saying he made a horrible mistake choosing her over me & wanted to be with me forever. Having these feelings made me feel even worse for being with my little freshman & not being able to give him what he deserved, so I pushed him away. I can't even describe how tangled & tortured I felt. I wanted so badly to give all of myself to him, to forget the past & allow him to love me, let myself love him. That's alI wanted, but I just couldn't do it.
I really should have sought out some therapy. Jesus.
But we also had some fantastic times together. We would go to the Union to get sub sandwiches, bring them back to my room, & watch 90210 & Melrose Place together every week. I always slept with my face in between his shoulder blades. I fit so perfectly, it was like I was meant to be there. We walked through campus holding hands & trying to dodge the damn starlings that dropped bombs of crap every 6 inches. We shared a love of 80's hairband love ballads (I am listening to one right now). He even made me a mixed tape of them once. He didn't care that I loved wearing sweatpants more than anything else (still do). We would sit for hours in the middle of the night & watch the rain come down. It was raining the first time I told him I loved him. He told me he loved me several months before, but the words simply would not come out of my mouth. Saying 'I love you' to someone I'm in a relationship with has never been an easy thing for me to do. Saying 'I love you' makes you & your heart vulnerable. I refused to allow myself to be that vulnerable again, even though I loved him with all of what were the broken pieces of my heart at the time.
But I was still struggling with the pain inside & I finally got to a point where I just couldn't handle myself or my life anymore. My grades were terrible. I had trouble sleeping, & when I did I felt like I could sleep forever. There were a lot of other factors I won't get into; I am attempting to leave them behind. But, in the Fall of 1996 (a lot of drama for one damn year, huh?), I made the decision to leave school & go home for a while. I do not regret my decision to leave. I HAD to leave the environment that was causing me so much pain so I could get healthy again & return to "me". I needed to heal myself so I would be able to give myself, & my heart, to the one who deserved it. But I hurt my little freshman immensely. We were together at the time of my decision, & even though he told me he understood why I was leaving, I knew it hurt him. He later told me he felt abandoned. He ended things shortly after I came home & I tried for the next year to get him back from three hours away. He did not return my phone calls, emails, or have anything to do with me. He was angry & hurt. Well, then I got angry & hurt. How dare he, I thought, I'll show him. I had a decision to make: Do I stay at home & forget everything? Move on? Do I forget how hard I fought to get myself better so I could be the person I deserved? The person he deserved? Or do I go back there & fight for him? Well, my ego got the better of me. I'll go back there, I said. Make him see how much better I am & how amazing I am (self-righteous, much?). So much for a perfect storybook ending. I went back to school & things were certainly not any less boring than they were before. We got together & broke up several more times (I think these were included in the seven times, but I lose count). We love each other, but want to be "free". Lots of yelling matches, tears, & name calling. We wanted the same thing; we just happened to want it at different times. Wow, we were one big ball of FUBAR.
In January of 1999 our life would change again. My little freshman & I hadn't spoken in months after a particularly brutal fight (no fisticuffs, just words), even though we lived a block from each other & saw each other several times a week at parties. My friends convinced me to enter a karaoke (oh, karaoke) contest & I made it to the finals. His best friend basically threw him in a car & drove him to the bar the night of the final contest. I was surprised as hell to see him there & even more surprised when he asked me to dinner for the next night so we could talk. The rest of the details are a blur, but a year & a half later we were married. We finally came to the same conclusion at the same time: We could not live without each other. He proposed to me on the fourth anniversary of our first date.
We will be married for 10 years in August, but have been in love for nearly fifteen years. In that time he has given me joy, happiness, support, strength, security, love beyond what I thought I was worthy of, & two beautiful girls. He dances with me in the kitchen, acts out Styx songs with me in the car, & still thinks I am beautiful. He's also driven me to Crazy Town more times than I can count.
Although our road traveled has been filled with potholes, twists & turns, & some big drop-offs I wouldn't want to have traveled it with anyone but my little freshman.
Happy Valentine's Day, Christopher. I love you more than any words can describe.
