A dating history of sorts

Yesterday marked six years to the day since Todd and I had our very first date. A casual cup (cups) of coffee at the Starbucks near Mark Center in Alexandria. At the time, I was living a couple of blocks away in my own apartment (man I loved that apartment). Todd was living more like 45+ minutes away in Centreville with three other guys in the ultimate bachelor pad.

 

We had met four years prior to that, which means this year marks 10 years total that Todd and I have "known" each other. 10 years that we have been a presence, no matter how small or big, in each other's lives. That is officially 1/3 of my life. And sure, that doesn't seem like much to most people, but to me, it is incredible. Especially when I think back to what I had to go through to end up with a man like Todd. 

Very first picture together - March 2007 (after about 1.5 months of dating)

 

I remember being in middle school - terrible bangs, glasses, braces, zits, and an awkward shyness - watching the popular girls receive flowers and teddy bears from their boyfriends.  Seeing them kiss in front of their lockers.  Hearing them constantly talk about so-and-so going out with so-and-so this week, and changing to a different guy the next.  And I remember longing for the day when I would have my own boyfriend.  Desperate, is really what you'd call it.

By the time I reached the ninth grade, I had grown out my bangs, got my braces taken off, and bought a set of contacts.  I tried out for, and made the freshman cheerleading squad, and I subsequently began making the best group of girlfriends I could have ever imagined.  I was not quite as awkward anymore, and let's be honest - I had pretty big boobs for a ninth grader, so I had that going for me.  I was perfect girlfriend material.

Or so I thought.

Instantly, I fell for the bad boys.  I had a desperate crush on one guy - who I'm pretty sure was a major stoner, though I never actually confirmed that - but it was one of his friends that asked me to go to homecoming with him instead.  He had diamond earrings (which for some reason thrilled my mom), and generally gave me the creeps every time he even looked at me.  We went to homecoming together, and I even had my first kiss with him - in the sweaty LB gym.  Dancing to "Unbreak My Heart".  It was awkward, slobbery, and pretty freaking exciting because I had finally! kissed! a boy! 

On Monday in school, he came up to me, tried to put his arm around my shoulders, and I got completely grossed out and never spoke to him again. 

By 10th grade, I decided I was more into the athletes and set my sights on a cute football player in my computer class.  And damn if I didn't snag him for a whole 3 months.  As a Valentine's present, he took me to my very first concert - Matchbox 20 (Rob Thomas still holds a special place in my heart), before literally ripping my heart out of my chest by telling me he had feelings for his "best friend".  Crushed.

In 11th grade, I met another football player - one of the above mentioned guy's good friends.  We hit it off in our Advanced P.E. class, went to homecoming together, and ended up dating for a full 2 years.  We were inseparable and I even decided to follow him to college, only to go away to beach week with all of my friends, and realize I just wasn't in love with him anymore.  I broke his heart, felt horrible about it, and then learned not so long after that, that he had been egging my car (while we were dating!) with a friend of his, and told every single guy on the football team - in the locker room - that we had sex.  Frequently.  A total, blatant lie, that made me thrilled I had broken up with him.

By college, I was ready to be single, but the summer before heading off to college, I fell hard for a friend.  Someone I had essentially known since about the 3rd grade, through a mutual friend. We fell for each other a mere two months before heading off to college.  And managed to stay together for a whole semester.  Except he went on a ski trip with his buddies over winter break, didn't call me once, and then broke up with me the minute he got back.  Heart, broken.

I took my sophomore year of college to finally be single - and it was by far my favorite year of college.  I went out with my girlfriends, joined a sorority, flirted like crazy, and made a ton of new friends.  But by the end of sophomore year, word had gotten back to my aforementioned boyfriend (by way of some of his close friends that I went to college with) that I was "so much fun" and he decided he wanted me back.  A fool in love, I took him back, only to have my heart ripped out once again due to his lack of commitment.  Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, and it hurts ten times as bad.

College sophomore me.

By my junior year of college, I was working at a local restaurant, waiting tables.  After a few months of working there, Todd happened to come in for lunch with a buddy of his.  I saw a cute guy in a backwards hat sitting at a table in the bar, and instantly told the bartender "that guy is so cute!"  She told me she was going to give him my number, and ran back to his table.  I knew I had to say something to him, so I went over, said "hi, that's my number" and long story short, we eventually made plans for a date that I stood him up on, stating that I "just wasn't ready to date again".  In hindsight, it was a good move.  Todd always says, had we tried to date back then, we would've never made it.  We were just in different places in our lives.

But a few months later, at that very restaurant, I met E.  He worked there, as well.  He was 6'4", loud, and all the girls fawned over him.  I was no exception.  So imagine my excitement when he took notice of ME.  He wanted to date ME!  By the end of my junior year of college we were a couple - if you could call it that.

I spent well over a year of my life desperately waiting by the phone for him to call me.  Spending every single dime I earned at work to buy him dinner and beer and anything else he wanted, just to have an excuse to go to his house and hang out.  The more I wanted him to love me, the worse he treated me.  He was into drugs (fortunately never did them in front of me), and once told me he'd rather deal cocaine than hang out with me.  One night he got in a fight with his roommate, I tried to jump in the middle, and he punched me so hard in the face that my eye swelled up black and blue and swollen shut.  He wasn't even remorseful. I told my mom we were horsing around and it was an accident.  She knew the truth.

He treated me like a dog...and that's what I felt like.  I spent half of my time crying over him, and the other half trying to make him love me.  He broke my finger by pushing me across the room, over the bed.  And yet I still wanted him to love me.

The thing of it was, for other people - our coworkers, friends, adults - he put on a good show.  He acted like a goofball that everyone found hilarious and wanted to hang out with.  And I was completely embarrassed of myself, so I never told anyone what was going on.

I became depressed and removed from my friends.  I gained a lot of weight - to which he told me I looked fat, yet he still allowed me to spend MY money to take us out to dinner and buy him beer.

I stopped talking to my family.  They didn't like him, and so I blamed them for the problems in my relationship. 

And then it all came to a head.  One night he spent 30 minutes on the phone telling me how fat and disgusting I was.  How he was hooking up with other girls.  How worthless he thought I was.  I called in sick to work in the morning, only able to cite that I was "really sad".  I spent all day in bed crying.  And I knew I had to change something.

It took finding an apartment in a different city, and not telling anyone where I was moving - not even my roommate at the time, my best friend - and getting the hell out of dodge, to realize my worth.

I moved to a place all my own.  I reconnected with my parents - who never even brought up my horrible relationship, just allowed me to heal with their love and guidance.  And I eventually pushed him away.  He called me one night in the middle of the night to tell me he was so sorry...he wanted to change...he was going to change.  He said he wanted to be with me forever, get married to me one day.  I told him there was something mentally wrong with him - that he needed to see a therapist - and that I was no longer going to be an outlet for his problems.  He told me he was taking a bunch of pills and wanted to hang himself.  I calmly hung up the phone, called his parents, told them what he had said, and never spoke to him again. 

Through the grapevine, I heard that he began to better himself.  Went to therapy, went back to college, graduated...changed his life around.  But to me, it was far too late.  HE was the worthless one in my eyes.  It took me a long time to understand that.  I am a forgiving person - usually forgiving, but not forgetting.  In his case, the wounds are too deep.  I will never forget, and I will never forgive him. 

After that experience, I played it single for a while.  Went out with my girlfriends, partied, adopted Whinnie when I became lonely and needed a companion.

Baby Whinnie in 2006

And then I realized that I wanted someone to share my life with.  And meeting guys in bars just wasn't working.  So I joined e-Harmony.

10,000 questions later, I went on a date with a guy that only wanted to talk about all the partying he did in college (dude loved himself some beer pong).  There was absolutely no spark.  I deleted my account the next day.

A few months later, a girlfriend told me she met a guy on match.com and that it was an awesome website.  So I joined with a trial membership.  And I ran the gamut from total creepy weirdos, to pretty cool guys.  I suppose my match.com experience is a blog post in and of itself.  I mean, one guy even sent me a message containing all the lyrics to Pearl Jam's "Can't Find a Better Man".  No actual words of his own...just song lyrics.  No, we didn't ever go on a date.

One guy showed up at my apartment in boat shoes with no socks.  In February.  Pass.

Another guy I actually went on two dates with.  On the second date, he dropped me off at my apartment just as it started to rain, and he said "do you mind if I drop you off here and don't walk you to the door since it's raining?"  Nope, didn't mind.  And nope, we never went out again.

But I did date one guy that I thought was a pretty good find.  He was a special education teacher, tall, attractive, kind.  We had a pretty quick connection and I was certain I was going to be through with my match.com account after just our first date. Turns out, he was just on match looking for a hook-up and after a few dates, couldn't be bothered to talk to or hang out with me unless it fit his schedule.  Back to square one.

Just as I was giving up hope of ever dating a nice, normal guy, Todd reconnected with me over AOL instant messenger (I know, old school!).  He sent me a message, had to refresh my memory on who he was, and asked if I wanted to grab a cup of coffee sometime.  I distinctly remember thinking "well, what's one more bad date?"  At this point I had experienced it all, so I felt like a pro.

We spent our first date in this very car -- I love my Buick, but man do I miss her...

 

I can still remember that first date vividly, as though I am still on it.  Todd was wearing carpenter's jeans, a Michigan hat, and a pull-over windbreaker.  I had on a blue sweater from Victoria's Secret, jeans, and these workman style boots that should have sent Todd screaming for the hills.  He smoked cigarettes and paid for my coffee.  He ordered a sugar free hazelnut latte.  I ordered a vanilla latte - the only thing I'd ever had from Starbucks before.  The shop was completely crowded, not a free seat, so we decided to sit in the car because it was freezing (it was January after all).  Being a skeptic, I asked that we sit in my car.  He agreed.

April 2007

 

We had met at 7:00pm.  By 11:00pm I realized we had been talking about everything and anything under the sun for four hours, and that my poor 1 year old puppy hadn't eaten dinner and probably had peed in her crate, and so I told him I had to go home.  We hugged goodbye next to my Mitsubishi, and I drove away thinking "if nothing else, I just gained an awesome friend." 

10 minutes after I got home, he texted me "I'm sorry I didn't kiss you, I owe you one next time".  We made plans to get together for our next date on Superbowl Sunday.  We had our first kiss in the parking lot of Arby's in Centreville (hey, we were young and on a budget).

August 2007 - oh to be that young and thin again!

 

Six years later, we have an incredibly strong marriage, a beautiful two year old son, and a life I never imagined I would get to have.  He is my absolute best friend, my rock.  He loves me first thing in the morning - make-up free, bad breath and all.  He's seen me from the inside out (literally!  Hello c-section!) and watched me go #2 on a hospital bed.  We have literally been through the good, the bad, and the disgusting.  And at the end of the day, there is nobody I would rather spill my guts to than him. 

It took me a long time to realize that what I deserved most in a man, was someone who accepted me fully, loved me unconditionally, and truly treated me as his equal and very best friend.  I know that things won't always be easy - trust me, we have our share of arguments.  But I am beyond 100% confident that what we have is unbreakable.  We will always be a team.  And I completely owe this life with Todd to God's divine intervention.  Todd truly was an unanswered prayer.

And then we made this little guy.  Does it get any better than that?!