Skip this one if you have a sensitive gag reflex. It’s basically for my husband (our fifth anniversary is tomorrow) who will most likely not read it unless one of you gives him a heads up. I’m gonna see how long that takes.
For any of you who think love has passed them by, hang in there. Keep the faith. Because s/he’s out there. And the longer you live without him/her, the more you will appreciate him/her when you find them. And all the better partner you’ll be. Hopefully.
He and I had both been through the romantic wringer, and each of us knew what we wanted and, especially, didn’t want in a relationship. Marriage was never my goal. I wanted a partner. A companion. Someone who I could trust unequivocally. Love is the easy part. Trust must be constant.
Man, oh, man, I had my share of untrustworthy boyfriends. They all started with a clean slate. But, as far as I was concerned, the moment I felt they couldn’t be trusted, it was over. Some got a second chance. One got a 96th chance. My heart closed up a little more year by year, until it finally snapped shut. And I walked away.
If you took only the best quality of each of them and rolled those into one human being, that would be my husband. I truly fall in love with him almost every day. He makes me laugh! I can’t believe how much he makes me laugh. And doesn’t even try. Isn’t performing. And he makes me think. He always has another perspective to offer that continuously inspires me to open my eyes and consider other options.
My husband is a musician. What I am oblivious to musically, he hears first. I remember the first time we were watching a movie and it got to the scary part where the woman is walking through the park at night and the music changes to a foreboding tune when the bad guy creeps out of the shadows and starts to follow her, and he yelled to the tv, "Run! Can’t you hear the music?!" I thought it was hilarious. Still do. He sings in the shower. I think singing in the shower is a sign of a clear conscience.
One summer night as we were dozing, nightsounds and delta breeze coming through the windows, he whispered, "Sonata for solo cricket." Sure enough, there was a cricket singing (or rubbing his back legs together which doesn’t sound nearly as romantic, but I understand that’s what makes all the racket). Sonata for solo cricket. I just thought that was the most beautiful, poetic thing I had ever heard. Still do. Right up there with D.R. Wagner‘s "blossom end of sleep".
He tells me he loves me EVery day. And I feel loved.
I trust him. Completely. Utterly. Joyfully. I always tell him that if he ever had an affair, it would be okay. I’d just ask him to go see a doctor, because it would have to be a brain tumor or some other medical condition. I look over at him on the other end of the couch. And I see what the man of my dreams looks like. And sometimes I tell him how lucky I am to have him. But, I’m ALways thinking it.
The Dove Lady doesn’t sing in the shower and it’s not because she doesn’t have a clear conscience. Or because she can’t sing. She’s busy thinking. But, oh! how she tears it up in the car!