One thing I never really talk much about is my relationship. I don't know why - it's a big part of my life. And in my past, dating and the guys I was with was never a topic that I would shy away from analyzing over and over again. I don't know why, but I've always shyed away from talking about D - also known as my boyfriend.
A friend of a friend of mine recently lost his wife in an accident, and my heart breaks every time I read something in reference to their relationship or her death. All of these emotions have continually made me realize that life is often unpredictable and relationships sometimes end unexpectedly. Sure, we have all of our memories - but sometimes, it's nice to share those memories. While I certainly don't want to lose D unexpectedly, I have realized that we do have our own story, with it's ending always "to be continued." So, I will try to tell it. In bits and pieces. To eventually look back on, from wherever we are.
D and I have been together for almost four and a half years now. He is my best friend, my anchor to the ground, my therapist, my confidant, my family. He has both changed me and helped me stay true to who I am. He, sometimes, is the only one who knows me and can see through my bullshit. He is the only one who seems to love me more on my bad days. He is the one person I know I can always depend on.
Our first date wasn't actually a date. We met through a friend of a friend and ended up hanging out. We watched a movie at my house - it was The Boondock Saints, which is one of his favorite movies. I don't remember the movie particularly well, because truth be told, I didn't like it very much. He picked a movie that was obviously not 'girl friendly,' like he was trying purposely to prove he wasn't interested in winning me over. This was okay with me, because I wasn't even considering dating him. I was wearing my sweatpants, and my glasses. My roommate was on the couch with us all evening.
We stayed up all night and around 2 AM, decided we were hungry. At this point in my life, I was sharing a duplex with 2 other girls and was apathetic towards the idea of cooking food (or even having food) in my own home. So we drove downtown to the only 24 hour Tim Hortons that was open, and ate bagels. We talked all evening, he drove me home. I, being the naive twenty year old I was, invited him to sleep over. He crawled into my bed fully clothed and we talked all night until we fell asleep. I didn't even think I liked him until he woke up at 4AM to go to work, kissed me goodbye when I was half asleep, and left his number on my downstairs whiteboard - crammed amongst all the doodles and notes me and my roommates had scrawled.
Eventually, we agreed to have a conventional first date. And truth be told, it was nothing like that first night we spent together. I wore high heels, which I hated. We both ordered drinks at dinner (which we both hated). We went to a nice restaurant and ate a three course meal. It was perfect, yes, but it wasn't us.
That first night is my theory as to why D and I are still together today. Why we went back to that Tim Hortons a few years ago and signed the papers for our first home together. I am not a perfect person, and neither is he. That first night, we were both so confident in ourselves, we weren't looking for anything more. But somehow, we found each other.
I have spent my whole life trying to impress others. I don't know what was going through my mind that night, but I let my guard down. I let D see me the way that so many others don't. And he accepted me. He fell in love with me, despite my faults. My sweatpants, my glasses. Our imperfectly perfect first date. I never would have thought it would become what it has. To this day, I am thankful for that one night. Boondock Saints, and all.
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