After that first date, Seth and I dated for about 10 months before we became engaged and then we spent 14 months engaged before we finally tied the knot. We had some traditional milestones, as every love story does. Our first kiss, the first time we dropped the L-word, a sweet proposal. In addition, we had a few non-traditional experiences because were long distance for our entire pre-marriage relationship. If you didn’t read about how we met or the other stories from our love story, you totes should.
Love Story: First Kisses
Later in the summer, after Seth had survived the great pinky toe explosion of 2008 and was fully recovered from his brush with MRSA, Seth visited in late July or early August. I, personally, was feeling a lot of self-induced stress. I had really never been one to save kisses and almost always kissed a guy on a second date if I liked him even the slightest. So, when I knew Seth was visiting again, I was ready to kiss him. We’d had a lot of phone conversations and Facebook chats. Even though he was uber nervous on our first date, I was genuinely interested in him in a romantic way.
So, before my new teaching year started, he visited. It became normal for him to stay for weekends when he visited; I would stay at a friend’s house and he’d stay at my place. I’m so grateful for my dear friends, Melinda and Missy, who let me crash at their places when Seth was visiting.
I don’t remember much of what we did that weekend; we probably had dinner with some of my friends, walked around a park, had milkshakes at Newport on the Levee. Things like that. That part really isn’t important.
On the final evening of his visit, we took a walk. My place in Kentucky had access to a walking path that leads to a body of water. Seth and I disagree on what to call this body of water. I called it a small lake; he called it a pond. Either way, there was a small gazebo by it. We took what was about a half-mile walk to the gazebo.
I don’t know about you, but I love summer evenings. After the sun goes down and the air cools. Lightning bugs come out. A small light goes a long way.
So there we were: at the gazebo. I was facing the water, Seth behind me with his arms around my waist. I could feel his warmth. And all I could do was think about how I wanted to kiss him. He’d driven for two hours each way on two occasions. He’d demonstrated that he was interested in me and had sacrificed free time to visit me. In a way, I wanted to reward him–thank him for his demonstration of interest–and to return the favor.
So, I turned around and just planted a big one on him.
And I was disappointed. I turned my face away from him a bit and hugged him.
I take it he was also disappointed because he gently took my chin in his left hand, turned my face back to his, and kissed me again.
Let’s just say that neither of us were disappointed. At all. To say the least.
I feel like a lot of couples remember their first kiss together. Why do we think these moments are so momentous? I mean, between the beginning of a relationship and through “til death do us part” we probably exchange trillions of kisses–at leats that’s my intention. But the first one. There’s something about the first one that we often remember more than any other kiss in our lives.
I will never forget that kiss and am so glad I will never have to kiss anyone else ever again.
Love Story: That L-Word
What does it mean to love someone? I mean, when a girl says, “I love you,” what does she mean? Does this sentence always indicate romantic love? I used the l-word a lot when I was a teenager. But I don’t think I meant romantic, loyal love.
So, when I grew up, I realized that I wanted to be choosy about to whom I profess my love. I didn’t want to say it just because it seemed right or because I liked the guy. I mean, I try to love everyone. Not romantically. But I didn’t want to be quick to drop the l-word.
My plan: To say “I love you,” to only one person for the rest of my life. I had been on the search for this person.
So, during a fall visit to Columbus, Seth and I took a walk through the Park of Roses. In my recent time of reflections, I had found that my insecurity was running a little crazy. I couldn’t see past my insecurity to see that this guy was obviously over the moon for me.
We sat down on a bench in the shade.
And I asked him, “Do you like me?”
In the history of the world and in the context of our relationship so far, this was by far the dumbest question. Ever. This is the guy who had emailed me at least once a day–multi-paragraph, thoughtful emails–the guy who had sent me flowers when he had to cancel a visit due to an unforeseen medical reason, the guy who called me beautiful, the guy who called me and complimented me and treated me to wonderful dinners. And I couldn’t tell if he liked me.
How clueless was I?
While I don’t remember his exact words, his reply was generous and surprising. He said something like, “I do care deeply about you… and I even love you.”
So, there. He dropped the l-word. Did I say it right back?
Well of course not!
Remember? My I-love-you plan was a limited one.
So, after my long trip home, I wrote in my journal. I wrote about my fears concerning dropping the l-word. I was worried things would snowball as I recall.
Over the next couple of weeks I thought about my feelings for Seth. And I decided that I loved him. I decided that I wanted to tell him–but the phone seemed like a lame place to say it–and Facebook even more lame. But we weren’t supposed to see each other for weeks and weeks.
Six weeks later, Seth came to visit for Thanksgiving weekend. And I had it planned.
We had plans to go play frisbee golf when he arrived, but oh boy was it raining. It rained and then rained some more. And that rain was filled with rain. Rain. Everywhere.
So, the only option that Wednesday evening was to sit at my place and, well, make out. What else does a dating couple do when it’s raining? And that’s when I said it. I said, “I love you.” I did it. I said it on a rainy Wednesday-before-Thanksgiving when I just couldn’t keep it in anymore.
Love Story: Our Now
After being married almost six years, it feels strange to tell my love story like this. It almost feels like I’m being immature. I think that’s because our love for one another continues to grow beyond those special words. Beyond a kiss. We believe in saying “I love you” every day and we believe in kissing and hugging every day. We believe in all of that, but the curve balls we’ve been thrown over the course of our knowing one another have made our love for one another deeper than we ever thought possible.
These love stories are stories of genuine love between the two of us. The love was no less genuine then than it is now. But now we have built something with one another–a foundation. A life. And kisses and professions of love are shared every single day. But we share so much more now, as we learn what it’s like to love and be loved, to cherish and be cherished, to support one another and to be supported.
I love my man.