This week's entry is pretty obvious if you know what's happening with me next week. I'm getting married. Number three for me, number one for him. I'm bringing the experience, he's bringing the enthusiasm. Actually, we've been living together for going on three years now, and we've already bought the house, but this is a big thing for me, and for him.
It's a love story.
I'll tell you one, and you tell me one, or tell me what love stories you've read that made a big impression on you. Continued.....
I've never been a big fan of love stories. Never read romances. I did have a soap opera addiction back in the good old days when I worked a split shift, but I could quit any time I wanted to, and did. I guess my favorite love story in print is Doctor Zhivago by Pasternak. Probably because it's so darn tragic, but mostly because it's a great Russian novel and I'm a sucker for great Russian novels.
My own love story began a bit over three years ago. I'd been single for quite some time, in fact, my ex-husband and I separated when my daughters were 2 and 8 months of age. We made the divorce official in 1993. I had the occasional boyfriend, some ran towards serious, but nothing really came of anything.
Then, in conversations on an email list, I started noticing a certain person who seemed to share many of my interests. We started corresponding off and on off the email list, and were anxious to meet each other in person. We had mutual real-life friends and I was assured by them that he was not a psychopath or dangerous, in fact that he was one of the gentlest people around, and funny, and smart, and so on, and so on.
We met in person on the last Friday in August, 2002. I could go into all the ways that we clicked immediately, how much we have in common, how we could talk for hours about topics from deep to shallow, or how much we made each other laugh. It'd be too long, though. We spent the next two months getting together as often as possible. He lived in Columbus and I lived in Pittsburgh. Finally, after much discussion, we decided that he needed to move to Pittsburgh. I had the more stable job and a nice rental house with plenty of room for him, so it seemed natural.
After we lived there together for a year and a half or so, we bought the house we now live in, and the same month, Bob proposed to me. That was a year ago next weekend.
It's not much of a love story as classic love stories go because it's happy, non-conflicted, and totally uncluttered with angst, faithlessness, star-crossing, and confusion. We just are, and it's all good. And that's fine with me.
Tell me a love story. Tell me about a love story. Tell me what you've read lately!