Let me start at the very beginning.
I’ve always really liked boys.
I’ve had a lot of boyfriends.
I’ve also had a handful of one night stands.
Or let’s put another way, if the legend is true and you have to kiss a lot of frogs before you find your prince, I am the proud owner of a very nice pond full of lily pads.
Heading into my 30’s I was single, had no real prospects and I still really liked boys.
All of that to croak out, I don’t think I was marriage material.
So let’s talk material for a moment shall we?
Sometimes one person’s cashmere turns out to be another‘s itchy red skin rash. And while some people are predisposed to polyester or wool, there are others who feel more comfortable in silk or cotton.
Me? I’ve always preferred rayon blend with 2% spandex because it hugs my curves, allows for a little give or stretch and always tends to regain its shape. It is, to me, the very definition of who I am deep down.
It wasn’t that I didn’t believe in marriage or want it for myself it was more that I had finally come to understand what my mom had been telling me all along, “you can say that you want marriage but your porch light simply isn’t on.”
Who me? The girl who went weak in the knees for boys of every shape and size? The young woman, who flirted, recited lines from romantic movies and believed (beyond a doubt and the constant chatter of realistic friends) in true love?
I cried into my pillow, “Mom, of course I want to get married!”
She rubbed my back, she sighed deeply and she spoke as gently as she could without laughing at me, “Wanting to and saying yes to something are different things. Those boys want to ask you but they know deep down you don’t want to get married. “
I cried a little harder and sat with that information, ready to dispute it when I simply fell silent.
Perhaps I wasn’t marriage material.
As a hopeless romantic I had always believed in all the ways the universe could bring a couple together but at the same time I remembered how I had cheated on practically every boyfriend I’d ever had. Then there was the notion that I didn’t really believe there was only one person in the world for you. I knew, first hand, how I could love different parts of different people and it didn’t make either relationship mean less to me. I wondered if those opinions and beliefs could co-exist in a civil union or if I was simply looking for companionship and a way to make myself feel worthy of marriage after my lifetime of hypocritical loving. Sometimes hopeless romantics make pretty lousy mates because they are busy hopping off to another lily pad when the romance wears off.
So I was left wondering if I’d ever find someone I’d want to not only try on but keep.
And then just when I was resigning myself to spinsterhood I met John.
And we “fit.”
We fit the way a favorite pair of jeans does (because of that handy spandex) or a comfy sweater that falls just right down the length of your body and makes you feel beautiful and right.
Sure, his patterns clash with mine from time to time but for what it’s worth we are cut from the same cloth. Like pieces you can wear from one season to the other we compliment without looking like a fashion emergency.
And we’ve learned enough in our time together to understand and appreciate how essential key elements in your closet and in your relationship are. Things like trust, laughter, teamwork and mutual respect come in handy when your wardrobe is boring or your drawers and life are stuffed with things you’ve outgrown or simply don’t work anymore. That’s when John is the one piece I just can’t do without because he completes me in a way that is cozy, warm and always appropriate.
No one was more surprised than I was (unless you count my mom) when I realized that if John was going to ask me to marry him I was going to say yes and mean it.
Turns out I was marriage material all along; I’d just needed to find the right designer.