You Are In Love

It was not love at first sight. I did not fall in love on the first date, nor the second. I can't pin-point where in time it actually was that I fell in love with Dylan, but it happened somewhere between our third and fourth dates. It crept up on me slowly and I knew that I liked him quite a bit when my feelings were hurt after he didn't kiss me on date #3.

So many people expect a huge violins-playing-in-the-background moment when they fall in love with the "right" person. I don't know how others experience it, the whole awkwardness of discovering your commonalities, establishing a friendship, beginning to feel comfortable even though you're nervous enough to vomit 10 minutes before you see them feel nauseous.

I suppose I realized that I was in love when I starting telling my friends that he was different, when I didn't share all the details with them because I wanted to keep them for myself, when I took several hours on a hand-written letter that I gave to Dylan on Valentine's Day-- our fourth date.

I couldn't have planned for love. In fact, I was pretty content with the fact that I didn't want to be serious with anyone at that time, but fate is a funny thing. Dylan had never been in love before he met me and actually wasn't planning to ever get married; I was thinking that love was simply something I wasn't going to find in it's true form.

We had no clue what we were doing.

We never played emotional games with each other, which I'm very grateful for after seeing how many people try to manipulate others and/or play tug-of-war with someone's feelings. That shit just doesn't fly around here, a great indication of how mutual respect can be the foundation for the best relationships (friendships, too.)

Through our first dates, I couldn't express what I wanted from him and he didn't know to ask, but somehow we managed to meet at the same place, on the same path. We called it love.

***

Dylan asked me to marry him at "our spot," three days after my birthday, when the snow was ankle-deep. I'm sure he knew that the proposal would be a success, considering I was willing to walk at least a mile in the 12 degree weather on an unsuspecting Sunday afternoon. That's how I see love. That's how I see marriage.

You do anything you can to ensure that your love will last. You do all kinds of things you aren't thrilled about to facilitate your partner's happiness. I let him Google fact-check, even when I know that I'm right. He lets me ramble on and on about the complexities of life. I understand that he needs alone time to process his day. He knows that I'm a little too wild sometimes, but he loves me for that, too. We're imperfect. 

What marriage boils down to is the "how" of the thing. Dylan and I have discussed this for ages, but we both keep coming back to the conclusion that we are soulmates, if there ever was such a thing. We love, deeply and we challenge each other to be the best we can be. He wants me to succeed in every aspect of my life and I encourage him every single day to be true to himself. We disagree sometimes, but eventually we see each other's perspective. Marriage isn't really all that much work, but it does take effort to treat your partner with the highest levels of respect, dignity, and love. We are always seeking to be a better listener or comforter or more understanding. If you aren't best friends, how can you call it love?

So I answered, "Yes."

Even though we had no clue if it would work out. Even though I was 18. Even though we were broke at the time. Even though we knew it would be a risk, in some ways. All of the events that took place in my life before him lead me directly to "yes."