"Without you, I don't make sense." I heard that somewhere...a movie, maybe? Anyway, it fits my relationship with the love of my life. Without him, I don't make sense. I won't get all shmoopy by saying he's the yin to my yang or (ugh!) that he completes me (he is and he does), but I will say that I cannot imagine my life without him. We've been together almost eight years and in June we will celebrate our fifth wedding anniversary. I look back at where we started and where we are now and I am truly amazed. Stunned. There was a period of time, in the beginning, where I was not medicated and I was "difficult" to be anywhere near. Scratch that, I was the she-devil-bitch-from-hell. I had a lot of baggage. Some of it was self made but most of it was out of my control and happened long before we met. Still, for both of us, it was tough to deal with.
In March 1999 Henry moved into an apartment and in April I moved into the apartment right next to his. (Our bedrooms, we later found out, shared the same wall.) The weekend after I moved in, my ex-husband and I briefly crossed paths with Henry. Actually, the ex and Henry carried on a conversation about motorcycles (my ex was eyeing Henry's) while I chased two-year-old Hunter around the parking lot.
Six weeks later I received an email from Henry in response to my ad and I was quite impressed with what it had to say. Nothing in his email suggested he lived in the same city I did, let alone next door to me and I had only said "hi" to him in passing that day by the motorcycle. But after I sent my reply to him on Monday, May 10th, I crawled into bed and said out loud "he's my next door neighbor". (This is a totally TRUE story!)
By Wednesday I was convinced of his identity and sent him an email telling him that I wasn't a stalker but I knew where he lived, that he had a five-year-old son, and that I knew what car he drove. I was working from home this day and watching out my window for him to come home. When I saw his car pull in to the carport, I walked outside. I was shaking like a leaf the entire time. What if I was wrong? What if he's not the responder? I walked up to him and asked him if he had read his email and he looked at me kind of strange. I told him what my nickname was and his jaw dropped. I quickly scurried back to my apartment. A little while later he came to my apartment door -- and we stood in the doorway talking forever. We've been together ever since. We lived side-by-side for two years before blending our families into one home.
Every bit of Henry's first email to me was the truth. He is everything he said he is and so much more. I could not have dreamt a more perfect man for me. Which is why I made things so difficult for Henry in the beginning. I was waiting for the other shoe to drop because it always did. I figured I would push him away before he left because I was convinced that that was going to happen. I was unmedicated and that made me quite challenging. But he didn't leave. I gave him multiple opportunities to leave, I gave him reasons (I was a horrible person, he deserved better than me) -- I pushed and he rebelled. I wasn't trying to make him prove anything, but he did. Over and over. When I was manic, angry, depressed, beligerant, slamming doors, screaming. He stayed. When I ask him why he stayed his answer is simple but it speaks volumes: because he loves me. For the first time in my life, somebody loved ME for ME and everything about me. Good and bad. That means more to me than I could ever put into words.
In March 1999 Henry moved into an apartment and in April I moved into the apartment right next to his. (Our bedrooms, we later found out, shared the same wall.) The weekend after I moved in, my ex-husband and I briefly crossed paths with Henry. Actually, the ex and Henry carried on a conversation about motorcycles (my ex was eyeing Henry's) while I chased two-year-old Hunter around the parking lot.
Six weeks later I received an email from Henry in response to my ad and I was quite impressed with what it had to say. Nothing in his email suggested he lived in the same city I did, let alone next door to me and I had only said "hi" to him in passing that day by the motorcycle. But after I sent my reply to him on Monday, May 10th, I crawled into bed and said out loud "he's my next door neighbor". (This is a totally TRUE story!)
By Wednesday I was convinced of his identity and sent him an email telling him that I wasn't a stalker but I knew where he lived, that he had a five-year-old son, and that I knew what car he drove. I was working from home this day and watching out my window for him to come home. When I saw his car pull in to the carport, I walked outside. I was shaking like a leaf the entire time. What if I was wrong? What if he's not the responder? I walked up to him and asked him if he had read his email and he looked at me kind of strange. I told him what my nickname was and his jaw dropped. I quickly scurried back to my apartment. A little while later he came to my apartment door -- and we stood in the doorway talking forever. We've been together ever since. We lived side-by-side for two years before blending our families into one home.
Every bit of Henry's first email to me was the truth. He is everything he said he is and so much more. I could not have dreamt a more perfect man for me. Which is why I made things so difficult for Henry in the beginning. I was waiting for the other shoe to drop because it always did. I figured I would push him away before he left because I was convinced that that was going to happen. I was unmedicated and that made me quite challenging. But he didn't leave. I gave him multiple opportunities to leave, I gave him reasons (I was a horrible person, he deserved better than me) -- I pushed and he rebelled. I wasn't trying to make him prove anything, but he did. Over and over. When I was manic, angry, depressed, beligerant, slamming doors, screaming. He stayed. When I ask him why he stayed his answer is simple but it speaks volumes: because he loves me. For the first time in my life, somebody loved ME for ME and everything about me. Good and bad. That means more to me than I could ever put into words.
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