My husband and I had a whirlwind romance. OK, but wait. I'm totally giggling, because while it was crazy fast, 'romance' isn't exactly the word I should use to explain our relationship.
We met in April of 2000, had our first date on July 9, 2000, got engaged on June 9, 2001 and were married September 15, 2001. So, that's what? 16 months from "Hi" to "I Do." Not bad. And don't get me wrong, I was crazy in love with him. I knew on our second date that I was going to marry him. I wasn't even worried if he felt the same.
My husband is not one for flowery words and grand gestures. But I know he loves me from the small, everyday things he does on a consistent basis. (Oh, and there's the way he took care of me and the kids when I was unable to draw a breath without crying.) It's always been this way. When we were dating he made a budget for me, changed my oil, watched my cat -- and I found out later that he hates cats. And the cat slept with him. He was so in love.
He is a man of few words, but when he says something it is meaningful. So I knew when he proposed to me it was going to be amazing. Because I had recently moved here from Michigan we actually had a wedding date before he proposed -- logisicts had to be worked out. So the surprise factor was gone, but I would at least get a wonderful declaration of love.
He took me out to dinner at this wonderful restaurant on the canal, where we dined at a stone table along the water. It was beyond romantic. And I saw a box shaped lump in his pocket. This was the moment. The moment every girl dreams about. My prince had come. I ran to the bathroom to check my hair, reapply my lipstick so I'd look the part of a newly engaged woman. All beautiful and glowy.
When I returned to the table, the lump was gone. No matter how hard I searched and peered I could not find it. Then, my boyfriend began talking about how he was not sure I was ready for marriage. How I wasn't ready for a commitment, for the responsibility of it all. How he'd been thinking and maybe I was a little flighty. What.the.heck? (only, trust me here, HECK was so not the word in my mind. Try something stronger. With and F in it.)
Then, my boyfriend, who had been in the Navy for four years, began pointing out and talking about the boats on the canal. "Look at that catamaran!" I looked over my shoulder, thinking, "Really? What the blankity blank blank is a catamaran? And do I care? I.Do.NOT." He said, "Wow! Check out that frigate!" I shot poison filled killer darts at him from my eyes and looked behind me. I took a deep, cleansing breathe and prepared to tell him that we needed to have a serious - oh so serious talk.
When I turned around there was a little black box sitting in front of me.
I looked at the box. I looked at him. I looked at the box. I looked at him. He grinned that grin that I had fallen in love with, put his hands behind his head, leaned back and said, "Ain't I something?"
And that, my friends, is how I came to be married to the most awesome, intelligent, hard working, kind, compassionate, loving man I've ever known. Yes, he is something.