Ah, love. Some love love, and then there are those who say things like, "I told you I love you the day we got married; anything after that seems redundant." Sigh. In our relationship, guess who is who? I have learned a lot in the last fifty-plus years, and probably the most important thing is love looks nothing like I thought it did when I was young. It took one handsome little bib overall-wearing farmer to show me what true love looks like.
I can remember sitting with my friends as a kid and imagining my life as an adult. I would marry a handsome, wealthy, athletic professional who wore expensive suits and bought me expensive gifts. I would live in a big fancy house in a city, and my marriage would be filled with romantic evenings, fancy meals, and daily gifts of flowers and jewelry. As a teenager, I had unrealistic expectations for boyfriends. Imagine teen boys don't behave like love-crazed romantics from the movies. Weird. As I got older, reality set in that the imaginary husband of my childhood would go the same route as my imaginary friend, Teddy. He did not exist.
As a young adult, Valentine's Day was often disappointing. Yes, there were nice meals and lovely gifts, but the big scene of being swept off your feet with some grand romantic gesture was missing. More accurately, the feeling of being head over heels in love was missing. On Valentine's Day, it always felt like whoever I was with was going through the motions of love. Hollywood, Hallmark, the flower, jewelry, and the candy industry set us up for failure. I concluded early in life that Valentine's Day was just a holiday made up by a card company to improve sales.
I was jaded by the time The Bibbed Wonder and I got together. I was 29, and he was 21. Truthfully, I viewed him as a good time, but nothing that would last, and I was okay with that. He was intelligent, fun, and witty, could carry on a clever and interesting conversation, was handsome, thoughtful, considerate, and honest, and had integrity. Spending time with him was refreshing. I thought I would enjoy it while it lasted, not get too emotionally attached, and when it was over, I would remember him as someone fun I spent time with for a short while—end of story.
Well, you can see how that turned out, dear reader. Twenty-two years later, I continue to laugh, enjoy witty and stimulating conversations, and think I am the luckiest woman in the world to be with such a good man, and just when I think I may strangle him, I find my love for him is stronger. Don't get me wrong, our relationship is not without its challenges. I mean, he is lucky enough to be married to the Mary Poppins of wives: Practically Perfect In Every Way. (I can't even write that without laughing it's so far-fetched!) But I have to put up with his mouth, his constant barrage of gas attacks, his ability to make up realistic but outlandish stories that I continue to believe, his crass sense of humor that is often at my expense, and his dream-crushing logic. I mean, why can't we buy all the houses on our road, open a school for 100 people to learn old-fashioned life skills, build a stone root cellar on the side of a hill, turn our pond into a swimming pond with a liner and sand, remodel the house, and build a new goat barn by spring? He's so uncooperative! Do you see how I live, dear reader? No, our relationship is far from perfect.
All jokes aside, he has taught me that love is not grand gestures, expensive gifts, and superficial acts. Love is feeding my geese and goats in the winter so I don't have to go out in the cold. It is picking up a Cadbury Egg with each trip to the gas station because he knows they are my favorite. It's making dinner on the nights I'm too tired to think clearly. It's making sure I feel safe and well-cared for. It's being an incredible dad and setting an excellent example for our daughter. It's talking me down when I feel overwhelmed and making me laugh when all I want to do is cry. Love is being honest, even when it hurts. It is having my back when I can't stand up for myself. Love is respectful, kind, gracious, appreciative, and considerate. It's following all my crazy dreams and making them a reality. Love is a million little things that are greater and far more impressive than one grand gesture.
So, no, my dream guy doesn't wear expensive suits and go to a big office. We don't live in a fancy house in a city. I am not dripping in diamonds and don't receive a dozen roses daily. Instead, I can say I am truly happy for the first time in my life. I feel cherished, seen, and heard. My dream guy wears bib overalls, is bald, and works alongside me at our farm in the country, making soap, milking goats, and making all my visions a reality. By the way, he does say things like, "I told you I loved you at our wedding; everything else seems redundant," or when I kiss him goodbye, he says, "Didn't we just do this twenty-two years ago? You are so needy!" there is always the ever popular and romantic, "My first wife did_________________________ (fill in the blank with something annoying), and they never found her or her teeth." Sigh, so there is that.
On this Valentine's Day Eve, stay safe, be smart, appreciate the reality of love, don't get caught up in unrealistic expectations; reality is better than anything imagined, and keep washing your hands.
Comments