I adore my husband. I love him so completely, I am often amazed by it. And it's hard to believe sometimes that we've only been together for six months now.
Literally.
Let me start from the beginning.
In March 2010, I needed a place to live. I'd been buying a house on land contract, and it turned out the seller was less than scrupulous, and had not been paying the property taxes on the house, even though it was in our contract that he was to do so. I had to come up with a whole lot of money, or move.
I moved.
I posted an ad on Craigslist that I was a single mom looking for a place to live. A couple that had two upstairs bedrooms for rent contacted me. My son and I moved in the next day. Literally.
Not long after, I met my roommate's younger brother. Now, my roommate was 23 at the time, still young herself. And her brother was only 19 at the time. Definitely not a prospect for me in anyway, shape, or form LMAO
In fact, I had a strong, "I don't date" policy. I was still recovering from my divorce, which had been final in 2008. I just didn't do it. I didn't date at all. And I kept to that for another year.
Summer of 2010, living with them, I came out of my self-induced shell, a little. They'd have yard parties with bonfires, and a whole lot of people. Beer, which I hate, and liquor, which I enjoy on occasion, but avoid, because I'm crazy enough without adding drunkenness to the mix.
One party, I got a little too tipsy, which is not hard. My alcohol tolerance is REALLY low. Four shots, and I'm wasted. Seriously. So wasted that I, in fact, had to be carried to my room. By roommate's 19-year-old brother. Very, very cute 19-year-old brother.
Nothing happened that night. He carried me to my room, very awkwardly, with the help of a couple of others. He was very polite about it.
Forward to 2011. May 21st, to be exact. I'm still living there, and we're having a party in the yard. Bonfire, a bit of alcohol, a whole lot of fun. Roommate brings up the fact that her brother, now 20, had carried me to my room the previous year. And that during that drunken carrying me to my room moment, he'd gotten quite a handful of boob. And didn't move his hand. We laughed it off, and kept on partying. And somehow, I find myself in bed with said 20-year-old.
Yup.
Mind you, this is NOT in anyway typical of me. I didn't date, and I didn't fool around either. I was not one for random hookups or one-night stands. I was a relationship kind of girl, but I didn't do relationships because I'd been hurt so very badly in the past. Instead, I just chose to be single.
But this one? I couldn't deny that I'd been attracted to him all along. And I'd sensed an attraction from him, though of course, I couldn't be sure of that. Just little things, like him making sure to say hi to me, even when he didn't say anything else to anyone in the room. But I certainly didn't think he was looking for any sort of relationship with me.
So yeah, we hooked up. And that night, that's what I thought it was. A drunken hook up. I wasn't looking for a relationship, especially not with someone only 6 years older than my son.
But two days later, suddenly he's sleeping on our couch, and asking me if I want to date.
And we've been together ever since. Even during the two-week "breakup" that we had in August we were together.
I can't explain it. I love him. He's amazing to me. He really is.
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