When I met my husband, I was a miserable, sad thing. Depressed, not intending to go on with life much longer, absolutely sure that the world was this awful, hateful place and would never accept me. (Oh, to be Fat In America. It's like a fucking crime to some people.) I was 24 years old and sure that my life was meaningless.
Just after Christmas 2006, I was working overnights as a cashier at the local Wal-Mart. A co-worker came through my line with her husband, and a man who worked for her husband. The man was cashing his paycheck, buying a few small things, and had the most beautiful eyes I had ever seen. He was also scruffy, with a full beard and a ponytail. He complimented me on my M*A*S*H T-shirt, saying he loved the show, too. My co-worker stood behind him, wide-eyed, and made happy gestures at this man. When he wasn't looking I gave a shake of my head. "Not into the homeless look." I told her later. Really, though, it was just the ol' conscience being sure of what a loser I really was.
She didn't care, and decided that me and this guy were both coming to her house for new years eve. It was a set-up, through and through, and it worked like a charm. We talked all through the night, and then for three days after that. He was living in his friends garage, so he came over to my apartment. And stayed. As simple as that, we fell in love.
My husband was addicted to crystal meth when he met me. I didn't know that. He spoke of drugs a little sometime in the first few days, and I told him simply that I do not do, or like to be around, that "drug shit." He told me he only did it once a month or so. Not too much later he confessed that that had been a lie, and he'd been a full-fledged addict for seven years. (He was 23. He started when he was 16.) Later still, he told me that he did it one time about a week after he met me, and felt so guilty he never touched it again. Just like that. Cold turkey. Love can do amazing things for the human body.
We knew we were in love pretty quick, but it took 21 long days for him to say it. I wasn't about to say it first! We were laying in my bed, and he told me that he had called his mother earlier that day and... dot dot dot... "I think I might love you."
I responded, quick as a bunny, that I think I might love him, too. Later, he confessed to me that the only reason he'd called his mother that day was to tell her he was in love, for real. No "I think I might" about it.
He proposed to me on April 22nd, 2007. We were married on December 31st, 2007. Yeah, we got married on New Years Eve because we met on New Years Eve. It was too cute not to do it.
Now, four and a half years later, we are just as in love. We have a beautiful son who is about to turn 3. He's been clean of drugs for four and a half years. We were both lost, alone, and searching for something we thought we would never find, and that fateful night, we found each other. We are happy together, and getting happier by the minute as we make our way through this stinking mud pit called life. He taught me the most important thing I will ever learn - true happiness is letting go.
So happy Fathers Day, my love. I may have given you an awesome shirt and the best chair ever today, but you gave me a life.
I love him.
our song. (unconventional, i know.)