We met in college, and... I don't believe in love at first sight, I'm too practical, I guess. But I told him within 5 days, 'I feel like I've waited my whole life for you.' I don't advise using this line on men that you don't want to scare away. He later told me that he was *that* close to running, but that he knew, even then, that I was something special. And at 18, I was an unusual, horribly *young* person. I didn't know anything about people, or the way that they work, and I was awful (I mean AWFUL) at being social. I couldn't take criticism worth a damn, I was painfully shy, the geekiest, most timid creature you ever met, and I was recovering from the crippling depression that followed my back accident. I didn't know at that time that I was hypoglycemic, and my sugar (and lack of)-induced moods were sometimes stunning on the restrictive campus diet.
I am so glad he fell in love with me anyway.
I was swept off my feet at once. He was tall and handsome, and had longish, curly blonde hair and the most wonderful little 40s-ish glasses. He was a wild-firefighter, and loved Alaska. He had a really strong personality, was stubborn, and smart, and was, IS, a fantastic poet.
It wasn't a perfect relationship. By any means. I came from a family where raised voices were taboo; he came from one where screaming matches were par for the course. He wanted to know the 'why' behind everything. 'Why' in my family was an expression of disbelief. 'Why do you feel that way?' to him was a genuine question, to me it was a statement that it was wrong. He'd press a point until I cried, I'd hide from anything resembling a conflict. It took years to find middle ground. Fun years. Tough years. Years I wouldn't trade for anything.
Okay... gotta flee, and this post probably doesn't mean a hill of beans to any of you, but I had to write it, realizing that I haven't given my life partner the spotlight in my life-as-it-is-in-this-journal that he deserves. He is my other half. He completes me.