I quickly saved and closed my assignment and responded, "Yes...? At your parents house." Inside I was thinking, oh please let that be the first time we met. "Hmm mmm, that's right. I thought you were cute that night." I coyly smiled and said, "In all the time we've been together, you've never told me that. Never." He never has. He loves to toy with me and make me believe I was the only one who thought anything that night. Truth be told, I too thought he was cute that first night.
He was 18 and a senior in a high school. He had that boyish smile that still entertains me in the intimate hours of our nights. He threw his head back in laughter, and I remember just watching him, entranced. I felt out of place in a home that was not my own, but something about his laughter calmed me. It came so natural to him. Laughter has never come so easily to me. Had I been in high school, I would've had a crush on him. A big one. I whisper that to him all the time.
However, I'm glad I was not in high school when we met. I can guarantee he would not be the father of my girls had it been so. He was the cool, genuine, sweet guy everyone loved instantly. He was prom king. Of course he was prom king. I was that quiet, sarcastic, unsure girl who never approached guys like him. I would've loved him from a distance, and it would've remained that way.
In college, I had this idea that the man I married would have to have both the cake and the icing. I had dated a lot and found that most guys had one or the other, but rarely did they have both. The first boy I fell in love with gave me all the icing I could've ever dreamed of. The second boy I fell in love with was all cake and little icing. I nearly threw away my desire for both and settled for just cake because I felt that in the end that would make all the difference. Boy am I glad that didn't work out.
I have now decided that cake alone is rather boring. Sure it is rich and delicious, but without the added frosting, it is just dry. I prefer something with a bit more flavor.
I got lucky when I married Tim. Not only did I snag a man with cake and frosting, I nabbed one with my favorite flavors. Never will you know what flavors those are. They are mine and mine alone to enjoy.
I feel rather sentimental with this man of mine. He is so good to me. He has only raised his voice to me twice in the seven years we've been married, and I deserved it on both occasions. He is gentle and kind. He still lights up when I walk in a room. I honestly didn't believe married people lit up after the honeymoon phase wore off, but it does here. No matter what I look like, make up done or undone, pregnant or skinny, pajamas or dressed, he makes me feel beautiful. He insists my smile lines are my best feature. He delicately grabs my back nearly every time we pass each other in the hall or in the kitchen. He washes the crockpot (my least favorite dish) and divides all the raw meat I bring home from the store (one of my least favorite chores). He runs his fingers through my hair to help me sleep. He dances with me, even when I resist. He makes me laugh everyday.
Seven years have been hard on us. They have tested us ways we couldn't have imagined, but we've endured the tests. We've passed, even if it meant we accepted a C- to skate pass the D on effort alone. We are both older and wiser. Although the seven years have been hard, they have also been so so good to us. I can't really describe all the ways, but just take my word for it. I fell in a deeper kind of love with Tim last year. It is a love I am still trying to comprehend and live up to. It is a love I hope stays with me for the next seventy years.
Here's to you my love and to the cake I plan to make you this weekend since you've given me and will continue to give me all the cake I'll ever need. I may even indulge and make our special flavors, if you get what I mean. ;)