|"When I saw you I fell in love, and you smiled because you knew." -William Shakespeare|
This particular night, a few of us drove to Winstead's for dinner. Matt offers to drive me, and take me back to my car at STA after dinner. I nervously agree. I am always slightly anxious around him. Or is it just my heart continuing to go berserk? We finish dinner, and head back to the school. Once in the parking lot, we sit in his Galant. Niether one of us really want to say "goodbye" just yet. He reaches in the back seat, and pulls out a single rose. He hands it to me, and asks me to be his girlfriend (I wish I could remember the exact wording here, but that left my memory, long, long ago). I smile, I hesitate, (it's so very hard for me to let emotions get the better of me), I really can't believe this is happening, though I am so happy it has. I am guessing I said, "yes". We then kiss for the first time. Such an awkward, awkward kiss. Yet the most wonderful kiss that has ever been, and ever will be. I am hooked. Every logical fiber in me says, "this is dumb, we are Seniors and going to be 10 hours apart in a few short months, don't even start." But, it was over before it begun, and we both knew it.
I have long wanted to write about this day. Not sure why. Unless I develop Alzheimer's or a dementia, I will never, ever forget this night, the events, the emotions. Maybe so that my children, grandchildren, family can understand how much we loved each other from the start. Seems like that would be a fun thing know. I tried so hard not to make this sound like a couple paragraphs cut and pasted from some silly, romance novel...but that attempt failed. Love is mushy. Love is illogical. Love influences us to make decisions we would not otherwise make. Love helps us accept. Love allows us to be blind to "flaws". Or not care about them anyway.
I have decided that I will just never understand whether Matt just said 'yah' or 'nah'. I used to wish he would just say 'yes' or 'no', so it would be clear, but now I just choose the answer that suits my purpose (hoping he will learn someday to enunciate - he hasn't.) Perhaps he does it, because he knows I will likely do whatever I want anyway. Though visitors may notice our multiple, burnt out bulbs, I have FINALLY, after almost 8 years of living with the man, grown accustomed to having "mood lighting" throughout the house at all times. I know what you may be thinking, "why don't you just change the bulbs, women can do that too", but apparently, I cannot be trusted to purchase the right bulbs, or I might spend too much money on them, or they won't be efficient enough, or the right white, or something along those lines...I'm not really sure. All I know is, we need a lot of lights bulbs. Seven to be exact. I try my best to build in nap time for Matt on the weekends, and just get over that 2-3 hours of productivity will be wasted. I have come to realize that our thresholds for what constitutes a diaper that needs changing, is very different. Same goes with, for how long dog poop or pee can be left on the carpet. Matt likes to relax first, pick up later. I cannot relax if things aren't tidied. We've agreed to disagree on this one. I leave shoes everywhere, he leaves socks, as well as other various pieces of clothing. He likes to hug, touch, kiss, etc throughout the day. I am far too busy for all of that, and he is often hindering my ability to get from point A to point B quickly.
These "flaws" of which I speak, are mere annoyances. They, in absolutely no way, affect the way I feel about my Matt. They are fleeting instances, that have become almost comical. You know those arguments? The ones that leave you feeling slightly ill to your stomach. Unfinished. That perhaps even change how you felt about someone? Well, we have never had one of those. Perhaps it is because we understand one another so completely, we can always see the other's perspective. Perhaps it is because our values, ideals, traditions, opinions, just match that well. Perhaps it's because we are both extremely reasonable people with very appropriate expectations, or even a lack of expectation. Perhaps it is simply respect. Perhaps it is any number of things, but we do know it's not for lack of temper. Mostly, I think we don't argue, because we love.
"He's more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same." -Emily Bronte