Lost in Suburbia: Happily ever after
“Hey, Mom,” said my daughter. “Was Daddy the first man you ever dated?”
I snorted. I thought about the truth and then decided to put it in Disney terms she could understand.
“No, Sweetie. Mommy had to kiss a lot of frogs before she met her Prince Charming.”
She laughed. “Did they all have warts and stuff?”
“No, but one of them lived with his mother and collected bobbleheads, and another one thought he could turn the pages of a book with his mind, and then there was the guy who liked to dress up in my clothes.” I said. OK. I didn’t really say this, but Disney never addressed the issue of men with bobblehead addictions, imagined telepaths and crossdressers.
I thought it was sweet that my daughter believed there were no other men before my husband. Although truthfully, there were way more than a few, he was the first man I truly loved, and he did in fact, sweep me off my feet. Of course that may have had something to do with the fact that I slipped in a puddle of water and wiped out right in front of him when we met. Technically, it was actually more of a rescue mission than a love sweep. But since we did end up together, I like to think my falling at his feet and him picking me up and saving me was a metaphor for him rescuing me from all the losers and psychos still waiting out there to date me.
I knew he was my one true love when we met. It took him a little longer to figure it out from his end. Like many 20-something-year-old guys I met living in New York City, he had issues with the C-word (commitment), R-word (relationship) and M-word (marriage). I made sure to tread lightly around any discussions that involved a future together, and when I nervously invited him to be my date at a family gathering, I made sure to read my family the riot act before the event.
“Do NOT talk to him about anything having to do with us, our relationship, or anyone else’s relationship, for that matter,” I warned them. They all pinky swore not to say a word. And then the night of the party, my grandfather grabbed him, sat him down and said, “What are your intentions toward my granddaughter?”
Then my uncle sat down and said, “Don’t EVER get married. Worst mistake I ever made.”
And finally my father cornered him and said, “If you break my daughter’s heart I will hunt you down and shoot you.”
Fortunately I had already spiked his drink at the beginning of the party, so he didn’t remember a word of any of this.
Two years later we were married. And now 20 years, two kids, countless fish and one dearly departed dog later, we are celebrating a life together I had only dreamed about, desperately wished for and am truly more grateful for than I can put into words.
He still is my Prince Charming. He’s also my best friend, my confidant, my soul mate, the father of my children and the one person who can see inside my soul and still love me.
To my husband; my one true love. Happy anniversary. Here’s to the next 20!
Follow Tracy on Twitter @TracyinSuburbia.