Saturday, Jul. 19, 2008 6:25 p.m.

our story: the long version

I didn't like him at first. This is important to note whenever I tell people our "story". I think it's possible to grow into love, for love to develop, for you to realize that something exists in someone that you didn't know about before.

That's what happened to us. And that's what I think gives us the most strength to our relationship.

Junior Year, spring semester. I knew him through a group of friends I occasionally hung out with during my internship. He was nice, friendly, but "not my type". A friend of mine apparently thought he might be hers, and one night while visiting, during a sleepover on on the floor next to me, K and her started talking. They apparently shared a brief 'fling' that week. Nothing huge, just a kiss/makeout or two. I didn't mind nor care; I was not interested in K.

A year and a half later, after graduation, I planned to move back to Los Angeles. My 'brief fling' friend still kept in touch, as friends, with K. She told me I should meet up with him, that maybe he'd give me advice about my move to the big city, that maybe it'd be nice for me to have a friend there. She had one stipulation for K though - he wasn't allowed to date me.

Though silly, I was secretly relieved at this. I had never had a real guy friend before, and I didn't know how to. Guys still scared me. I didn't know how to be friends without them thinking we liked each other...and now, with my friend's no-dating joke of a rule, I felt I could be upfront, that we both knew it would never be a possibility.

So it never was.

We surprisingly got along well though, and as I honestly knew no one else, I became inducted into his group of friends. But he remained the closest friend of the group, and soon we were comfortable talking to each other about things. We'd talk about dates we'd go on, or get advice for how to handle the opposite sex. Once, at a party at his house, I made out with one of his friends in his kitchen. K helped me get in touch with him and was a go-between for the two "dates" that came afterwards...and then fizzled out to nothing...

We really were not romantically/physically interested in each other.

But we started talking more. And sharing more of ourselves. And feeling comfortable. And I began to wonder if I was spending too much time with him, and why I liked spending time with him, and if there was a reason I had refused to ever consider dating him.

I mean, what was I looking for in a guy afterall? Wasn't he what I was looking for?

But I couldn't admit that. That scared me. I hadn't dated many guys, what if I was just starting to get lonely, and too many of my old college friends were getting married, and I'd be settling for K? How did I know if a person was worth settling for?

But he was starting to intrigue me. Like in a boyfriend kind of way. I don't know if I was physically attracted to him at that point; I think I was still really confused as to if I could ever imagine dating him.

Meanwhile, we started becoming closer. Talking about things that you really shouldn't talk about unless you want to make yourself vulnerable. And it was weird. I remember being drunk at another party and he was feeling sick. I remember trying to soothe him and holding his hand. I remember telling myself I was just being a good friend, while really thinking about how nice it felt.

I remember getting drunk about a month later (yes, obviously, alcohol played a large part in our relationship!) at a bar with friends. Somehow our hands ended up together again, and it just felt right. We didn't want to let go. We wanted that moment. We were nervous to acknowledge something being there, but we could no longer deny it either. Neither wanted to lose the others friendship if we somehow screwed it all up, but we also didn't want to never see what would happen if we let if.

So we did. And I kissed him that night. We discussed it first, almost like we knew what barrier we are about to break and wanted to make sure we were ok breaking it before we did. It was great, and unbelievable, and right, like it always should have been.

But it still freaked me out. With our previous friendship, I knew this wasn't like a typical dating relationship. We had already jumped several steps. If we were seriously into this, then we were seriously into a future together. We knew each other too well at that point to ever go back to what we had before. I knew it was pretty much all or nothing.

And I was not ready for all.

So I kind of strung K around for awhile. I told him I wouldn't commit, that I wouldn't call us anything, that I wouldn't stop from possibility considering other guys, just in case they came into the picture. But then, when we'd be together, I'd be with him. We'd kiss, we'd cuddle, we'd fool around.

I had no clue what I wanted. But he knew that he wanted me.

Then I went on this trip. The trip of my life, looking back on it. I traveled around the world. I saw many things. I thought many thoughts. I developed crushes on many guys. And I knew that whatever I was doing to K - it was wrong. I had to let him go. I didn't know what I wanted, and that wasn't fair to him.

So I "broke up" with him, even though we were never really dating. It was hard. On top of everything, he still was a great friend; one of my very best. I didn't want to lose him.

He took it ok at first, but then it took it badly. I don't think he understood my weird female mind, that I thought I was really doing what was best for him, that I really cared about him so much that I didn't think I was being fair to him and I thought he deserved better than that. So it took it hard, and said he couldn't imagine still being friends with me.

I told him I understood; that I would let him heal, that I would let him call me when he was ready and that I would really look forward to his call.

I think I really expected him to call me. I thought it would just be a few days. I didn't really believe him when he said it would be easiest on him if he just cut me out of his life, that it would take him a really long time to get over me, and that he wouldn't be able to do it if I was still around.

So when he didn't call, week after week, instead of feeling better about the whole thing...it made me feel worse. I missed him. I didn't think I would. I mean, really missed him; I didn't feel complete. I had no idea I'd feel that empty. That he'd become such a part of my life. The fact that I cared that much really caught me off guard. I began to wonder what my feelings for him really were, and it shocked me when I realized that I loved him, not as a lover necessarily, but truly, deeply, as a person, and as an important part of my life.

Oh, and I went out with another guy during this "dark period". I forget about this part sometimes. He was cute and much more attractive than I was used to approaching me. He was also a typical, boring, shallow guy - but I had never dated someone like him so I accepted. He was relatively interesting and fun, so we went out a few times. We went to the movies once, and I found out later that K had been there too, and he saw me with him, and assumed I had moved on. It breaks my heart to know this now; I wish I could have told him then that I hadn't moved on, that I was just trying to fill his void with a really cheap imitation.

When I kissed that other guy, all I could think about was K's kisses. It was then that I knew that I wanted K, and K only...even if that meant longer-term than I was willing to consider.

When I called K for the first time, over a month later, he refused to answer. So I started leaving messages. Every day. Until he answered.

We went to dinner one night. But I didn't tell him my feelings. We started hanging out again; I still didn't tell him. I was afraid. We were so tentative still and I didn't know if he even wanted me back. I had hurt him once, how did he know I wouldn't do it again.

But it was happening, and unlike the first time around, I was falling in love with him this time. The giddy, in-love feeling people talk about. I had never experienced that type of love before...it was as though it wasn't until I realized that I loved him that I was able to "fall in love" with him.

Then there was the one night. That night. November 13, 2004. We went bowling, then shared a pitcher at the bar by his house. Tipsy, I stopped in before leaving, hoping to warm up before heading home. I should have known at the time what scene I was setting up, but it wasn't until we started cuddling on the couch that I knew there was no turning back. I will never forget the details and anxiousness and unbelievability of that second first kiss. It was my acceptance of us; it was a sort of promise, an understanding, of what this was and what we were getting into by it.

We talked the next morning, in depth. We didn't use the "m" word, but both knew it was the likely, and acceptable, outcome. We knew what we were getting into, what this meant. What "we" meant.

4 months later, we were engaged. 6 months after that, married.

I never thought I'd be that girl; I always thought I was too logical for such a short courtship and engagement - but it was almost as though it was my logic that encouraged me to jump in quickly. Afterall, I had made the decision the night of our second first kiss, and I knew I was ready for the seriousness of that commitment.

This October, it'll be three years. I still can't believe sometimes that I'm married.

But it's super cool. I really love K...and I really like him too.

previous | next