The Luckiest

First let me extend my apologies for this post to my dear friends and readers who abhor Valentine's Day. It's a perfectly fine holiday except that Hallmark and jewelry stores have hijacked it and turned the day into an attempt to boost revenue in the post-Christmas buying slump. Because really, nothing says love like some ugly, mass produced piece of shit jewelry.

And trust me, I am one of the most unromantic human beings to ever carry the double x chromosomes. The V-Day festivities tonight will probably involve eating leftovers and running on the elliptical machine. One of my favorite Valentine gifts from my husband was Ice Bat, the Ugly Doll.

But since this is a day dedicated to acknowledging the ones you love, I thought I'd dedicated a few words to my husband, the love of my life and soul mate. It's difficult for me to express my affections for people, even my beloved. Chalk it up to that tidy wall I've built around myself, protecting me from those years of mocking and teasing. I never was one of those women who played cheerleader to their boyfriend or husband; it always struck me as odd when gal constantly proclaims how wonderful and great and amazing her man was, like maybe she had to repeat those sentiments to convince herself they were true.

Anyway...

Dear Adrian,

When I used to see you around campus freshman year, I would always get this weird feeling, not a "sky opens up and rainbows and unicorns descend" kind of feeling. It was this sense that I knew you or should know you or would some day come to know you. The mystical side of me believes that it was that still, small voice of God nudging me towards my personal destiny. Whatever it was, imagine how freaked I felt standing in the first meeting of the German House and realizing you, That Guy, would be living down the hall from me. It took few weeks to con you into finally talking to me (As I recall, you head was firmly planted up the skinny little ass of Janet.) and then a few more weeks to con you into spending waaay to much time together and with decreasing amounts of clothing. Little did I know what I would be getting myself into.

It's funny when I hear us referred to as "college sweethearts". That term seems to come from a far away time of girls wearing their boyfriends' fraternity pins and single sex dorms and the like. "College sweethearts" does not do justice to our severely weird courtship full of potholder battles, long walks in wee hours of the morning, scuffles over trivial things that only two kids just barely out of their teens could find important enough to argue over, adventures in breaking and entering, holding hands constantly, sleeping crammed into itsy dorm beds, and a few incidents that we try to keep Unmentioned. Our friends may have doubted we'd last as long as we did or end up where we are today. But I remember one afternoon, Vivian told me that she'd seen us walking across campus holding hands, me dressed mini skirted with knee socks and Mary Janes and you with your Adidas and chain wallet. She said we looked like the perfect alterna-couple. And that's how I think of us back then. We had this cool, crazy love-thing.

If it hadn't been for you coming into my life, loving me, and willingly taking on all the insanity that is Amanda, I'd probably be single and living alone in some tiny apartment crammed to the gills with half-dying houseplants and more cats than my rental agreement allowed. I'd be spending way too much time watching television (but without the sweet set-up we enjoy now), eating cereal for every meal, and still be decorating my walls with my collection of Christian Slater movie posters. Not there's necessarily anything horribly wrong with that and I do wonder how my days would be spent if our relationship had never been. But I know that I would never have had all the adventures we've shared. I wouldn't have had your companionship to enjoy as part of my every day life, nor your support and love to get me through the rough times. And I certainly wouldn't have our crazybeautiful little man to simultaneously bring me pure joy and unmitigated frustration.

What I'm trying to say is I'm glad I put on my courage hat tight enough to have the nerve to talk to you that first day and that I latched onto you like a tick on a dog because somewhere deep down inside of me was a whispering voice telling me that you were Mine.

You are my one, true love. The only person who has ever seen me for who I am and still wants to share space with me. You have given me some of the happiest moments in my life. You are my rock, only way cuter.

I like you a lot. Do you like me? Circle one: Yes. No. Maybe.

Love,
Amanda