I’m not overly sentimental. I don’t have any photos hanging in our house. I threw out my wedding bouquet when we got back from our honeymoon. I’m not a fan of overt “feelings” or being mushy. That is not to say that I don’t feel—as a writer and a sensitive person, I’d say I feel way too much instead of not enough. I need to limit what sentimental coils I wind down in order to preserve my heart. But, sometimes, I have a feeling or two.
I had a feeling about my husband and I have pretty much since the day that I met him, three years ago precisely. We met at Dexter’s Pub on September 15, 2011 for the season 7 of It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia watch party (Frank’s Pretty Woman episode). We actually met through match.com (which we are sometimes sheepish to admit). I remember thinking that Kris looked young, and that I was tired and would wrap the date up in a few hours. I think I ended up staying past ten, which is a small miracle. There are bits and pieces of that date that developed into legend for us: Kris shushed me. His trivia boss crashed our date. The fact that we both nursed sodas that night has turned into the myth that Kris didn’t let me order any food. At the end of the night, Kris had asked me on another date, and I said yes right away. I was breaking my dating rules for him.
The rest, as they say, is history. Something I had wanted for so long, a boyfriend, soon became my fiancé and then my husband. All of a sudden, I had someone asking me how I slept. Someone asking I say ‘goodbye’ when I leave the house (something not explicitly done in my family). Someone that makes the bed in the morning. Someone to take the burden from the other love of my life, my cat.
Someone that let me draw eyebrows on his dog.
Someone that let me send ridiculous texts without giving me too much crap or becoming angry.
Someone that became King of the Double Pet.
Someone that has taken me on many travels, from Canada to Mexico, to Washington D.C., Seattle, Denver, and next month, to Ecuador.
Someone that I can cry in front of. Someone who tolerates me when I am incredibly mean. Someone that let me park my car in the garage when we had a one car garage. Someone that does the work with me, even when it’s hard.
Three years ago today, I met someone that promised me all the rest of the years.