Saturday, June 14, 2014

Almost half my life

For some strange reason I've been feeling particularly thankful for my husband, which is a sure sign I have a brain tumor or something terribly amiss with my noodle.  It is really not in my nature to be lovey-dovey, especially publicly.  I am not one of those women who talks about "my man" or "my lover" or "my soulmate."  I don't like to throw-up inside my mouth that much.

However, June marks 19 years of togetherness for us, and I've been thinking on that a lot.  In November, we will be married 17 years.

I don't remember specific dates anymore.  It was sometime in June when we had our first date.  I think we became engaged on May 28 the following year, but I'm not sure.  So much of what I have thought I would never forget, I have forgotten.

We worked at the same dental insurance company when we met.  He was completing his masters degree, and I was wrapping up my bachelors.  Colleagues had been trying to get us together for awhile.  Despite D's extreme reserve and avoidance of social events, he went to have drinks with a bunch of coworkers on a Friday evening, where I proceeded to chat it up with a mutual colleague's husband (who was far more talkative than D).

Two days later, on a Sunday, D called me and asked to go for a walk at a park that afternoon.
After our walk, he asked me out for the following Friday.  I was mightily impressed with him giving me so many days notice.
On the Friday of our first date, we went to see the play "Angry Housewives," which I find quite funny now.

I have often said that there are two main reasons I hooked up with D.

First, he liked the movie "Orlando" with Tilda Swinton, which he told me on our first date.  I thought he must be pretty enlightened if he was commenting on this movie and not some beat-em-up, testosterone-laden guy movie.

The second reason is that he doesn't care one whit for sports.

Recently, I was reminded of another reason why, 19 years later, I am glad I hooked up with D.  I was reading a newspaper article about the Malaysian jetliner that disappeared and discussing it with him.  As our conversation was dwindling, he said, "I think Gru took it."  Days and days later, I am still chuckling about this.

Perhaps my re-reading of Jane Eyre is what has me thinking on my marriage and the nature of love.  Being with someone who, while not perfect, is well-suited to my nature.

Or maybe it is that it has been a month since I've had my weekly 6-hours-of-solitary-grown-up-time, so I'm clinging to things that are adult and not endless childhood babble, and D is the most readily available thing.

Whatever the reason, I'm thankful he's in my life.
And now I'm going to go cuss or something to get all this sentimentality out of my system.

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