Looking Forward by Looking Back

As I've written many times, both in my journals and on my blog, I used to fantasize almost every single night in junior high and high school about meeting, dating, falling in love, and marrying the man of my dreams. Doing this every night afforded me the chance to dream up many, many scenarios. Although my fantasy romances never played out in the exact same way, they did all have one thing in common: The relationships I fantasized about were easy.

Anyone familiar with my life since I was 18 (when I started dating) knows that my relationships have been anything but easy. I've been lied to, cheated on, screamed at, ignored, treated like dirt. And then there are those I lied to, used for my own validation, and broke up with because they liked me too much. I went through years of self-destructive behaviors that stemmed from a desire to be loved and accepted. I've dated some really wonderful guys. I've dated some real asshats. I've dated guys who were downright cruel. But nothing ever lasted. Nothing was without conflict on some level. Nothing was easy.

It is a maxim well-known that "It is our past which makes us who we are today." Growing up LDS, I wish I had a dollar for every time I heard in a talk in sacrament meeting something akin to "We learn through our mistakes" and "Everything happens for a reason." It is fascinating to me, though, and a little amusing, how much I find myself thinking these things to myself now on almost a daily basis. I find myself reflecting on the people who infuriated me, challenged me, made me cry, made me question my motives, hurt me, and I find myself smiling (!!) and thanking the universe (or whatever) for sending them my way.

To begin, Andrew and I are still hanging out. Actually, that sounds belittling and inaccurate. We're going strong, pretty dang strong. Since I got back from vacation, we see each other pretty much every chance we get, whenever our schedules allow for it.

Our first time seeing each other after I returned from my three-week trip was an experience I will never forget. He came out his front door to greet me. I was smiling so hard, my facial muscles actually ached. When I approached him, we hugged and squeezed each other tightly, as if we had found something precious we had lost and never wanted to lose again. My heart, as the cliché goes, was fit to burst.

It's easy for people, including myself, to say something like, "We have SO much in common!" when they start dating someone they really like. Andrew and I do have a lot of things in common, but it's really more about the connection to him that I feel. There are things we do not have in common, plenty of things, but those differences actually make me feel closer to him. For example, he loves country music. I do not. But his love of country music is one thing that allows him to connect with my little sister, and hearing them sing along to some song I've never heard before melts my heart. He likes sports. I do not. But his interest in sports allows him to participate in conversations with my family that I cannot. It also allows me to watch him play volleyball, which is incredibly sexy.
The week after I got back, I went with Andrew to take his puppy to the vet. We sat close to each other on the bench and I found myself thinking about what it would be like if we were a "real" couple. I had my arm on the bench behind him. We were laughing and talking. Just like a "real" couple. After the puppy's exam, Andrew was standing at the counter making the puppy's next appointment. I was standing a few feet away, looking at a display of something, when I turned around and found him looking at me, smiling with a sort of dreamy-mischievous wonderment in his eye. I don't know what it was about it, but seeing him standing there looking at me flushed my chest with intense heat and butterflies--a tingly, twittery, expansive feeling that I honestly had never experienced before. It was so intense, in fact, that I had to turn around and walk away.

He brought my mother a dozen white roses last week to express his sympathy when my grandfather passed away.

My one-year-old niece bonded with him almost instantly, something she hasn't even done with my sister and brother-in-law. He got down on the floor and played blocks with her and read her books.

He drove out to my house (he lives a half hour away, in downtown Phoenix) in the middle of the night to put a card on my car.

He insisted that I stay in bed so he could go to the store to get me coffee.

I forgot my keys at his house the other day. I told him I would just use my spare key and then drive out to his house the next day to get them. The next day, I had to drive various people around (to the airport then 45 minutes away out to Glendale). I sent him a text message when I was leaving Glendale, telling him that I would head back out to his house after I dropped my friend off at her car, which was at my house. When I got home, I texted him to tell him I was ready to head over. He asked if I could hold off for a bit because he was out running a few errands. I told him that I awaited his orders. He responded, "Order number 1... open your front door." And there he was, grinning ear to ear and holding out a pile that contained some clothes I'd left at his house, my keys, and a book he had that I had expressed interest in reading. He said that since I had been driving around all day, he didn't want me to have to drive all the way out to his place again.

This is the kind of person he is. All the time.

And here's the kicker (and what has prompted me to think so much about my past and the struggles I've been through), I've never been so happy in my whole life. I know that sounds hyperbolic or dramatic or naive or like something a 14-year-old would say, but I'm dead serious. My relationship with Andrew has been natural and free-flowing and wonderful every time I've seen him. We've melded and fit together in ways that I have only fantasized about. Literally. I feel real and authentic in ways that I've never experienced with anyone I've had a romantic interest in. Shockingly, he seems to feel the same. I keep thinking that he'll get tired of telling me how beautiful he thinks I am. But he hasn't. I keep thinking that the burning in my chest will go away when I see him staring at me, smiling. But it hasn't. I keep thinking, This is the point where I would normally start sabotaging things in order to break up with him because he likes me too much. But I haven't, nor do I have any desire to. (I feel like I need to add "...so far" to all those examples. But I'm not going to because that is not reflective of how I'm feeling right now.)

I know that I would not feel the way I do about Andrew if I had not experienced the things I've experienced, fought the battles I've fought (both with others and with myself), and cried the tears I've cried. I don't take a single moment with him for granted. Really, I don't. So far, it doesn't seem to matter how mundane the activity is; I look over at him, at my arm wrapped around his chest, I brush my lips across his head, and I thank God (or whoever) that he found me.

I am grateful for the 20 years of growth that were necessary to prepare me to appreciate someone as wonderful as Andrew. I am grateful for the 20 years of extreme emotional ups followed by extreme emotional downs that have made my heart flexible enough, resilient enough, and strong enough to be able to hold the things I'm feeling. It wasn't easy. None of it was. But it was all worth it. Every sleepless night. Every tear. Every failure. Every short-lived success. Because I'm here now, feeling things that are hard to comprehend, feeling things that I fantasized about but never fully believed I would feel because I didn't think I deserved them. I'm still scared sometimes. I'd be lying if I said I didn't worry sometimes that all of this might crumble down.

But there is one thing that both excites and terrifies me the most: It is easy. It is finally easy.