It’s not been going well, people. To be quite honest, I don’t know how it’ll turn out. But my wife and her love has been the one constant through out it all. She’s never wavered, never faltered, and continues to remain steadfast, loving, and committed to our marriage. Today was a day I woke up and thought, ‘Damnit, still alive.’ Seeing this post of hers though… reminds me that I have something really special and that it is worth staying for. Even when I’m ready to give up, when I’m so weary in spirit and soul that I want it to be over, I still have her. And she loves me no matter what. So, thanks, wife. Thanks for saving my life today. I love you winsome pony. Always.
August 17, 2007:
Really, the story begins a little earlier. I’d been writing RPS fic in the Chenzel fandom, and this other lady had been commenting on my writing. Lengthy, insightful, complimentary comments, far more intelligible than “OMG, love!” (not that those aren’t appreciated also!). This lady had captured my attention, with her comments, and her own stories in the fandom. Then I found out she lived less than 30 minutes away from me! What were the odds?
I made a couple of attempts to meet her. Her car was out for repairs, and I offered to play chauffeur, but she declined (I still harass her about that, in fact).
Then I saw that Seussical: The Musical was playing at my university. After some angsty internal debate, I invited her.
Mind, I was in a terribly miserable and angsty place internally, in August of 2007. I’d been near-suicidal multiple times over the last several months. I went to a counselor at the beginning of the summer and told her, “I think I might be gay. But I can’t be gay. No matter what.” I wanted to die, b/c I was a conservative Christian, and was convinced that “being gay” would separate me from God forever.
I’d done a bit of work over the summer, and was now willing to consider that being gay was not a mortal sin…that maybe it was even how God intended me to be. And I was willing to put all that aside anyway, because this girl had captured my heart with her words, and I wanted to meet her, and get to know her.
So the evening of August 17, I changed my clothes about 10 times. Mind, I think I only owned about 5 appropriate outfits. If that. I brushed my hair. I applied perfume. Let me say that one more time. I. Applied. Perfume. Anyone who knows Winsomepony even a little knows what a rarity this is.
Finally, the time had arrived. I drove to Chipotle, where we’d arranged to meet for dinner before the show. From my car, I looked in, and caught my very first glimpse of the woman who would become my wife.
She wore jeans and, I believe, a Wicked t-shirt, though I can’t be sure of the shirt. Her hair was black, and she had curves that rocked. I was smitten, literally, at first site. All I could do was hope this was the girl I was supposed to meet.
And it was.
We ate dinner. We talked about inane things, danced the semi-awkward, witty-banter-required dance. She was smart, articulate, and funny. She was charming and considerate. She was tough and cynical with a tender, passionate heart beneath.
We saw finished dinner and went to the show. It was a good show, I believe. But to be completely honest, I was more focused on the brush of her arm against mine, the sound of her quiet chuckle at amusing lines…and the endless question in my mind: would she hold my hand?? (She did not).
After the show, we adjourned to my car (and no, not for a steamy make out session!). We talked. We sat in the parking lot and talked for about 3 hours, despite the fact that I had to be up at 5:30 the next morning. We talked about relationships and life. I told her I didn’t know how to turn someone I love away…ever. She told me she was capable of making hard decisions. I think some of the most important parts of our relationship were born in those 3 hours.
Before she got out of the car, I asked her when I could see her again. I didn’t know how to play coy, and when she said she had to work all week, I suggested that I come by on Monday and take her out to lunch. She agreed.
It’s been 7 years this week since that first date. Much of what I learned on that first date still holds true. My wife is smart, and articulate. She has a wry sense of humor and can be a charming bastard, and underneath it , she is one of the most passionate, fierce women I’ve ever met.
We still talk for hours, and when she walks into a room, I still marvel that she’s mine. My breath still catches when she brushes my arm, and when we walk around the store together, I still hope she will hold my hand. And in case it isn’t obvious, I’m still madly, crazy in love with her.
DO YOU EVER SEE SOMETHING SO POORLY WRITTEN THAT YOU ACTUALLY REWRITE IT IN YOUR HEAD AS YOU’RE READING ALONG
Girls supporting girls.
Girls building each other up.
Girls helping girls in need.
Girls encouraging and inspiring each other
Older girls protecting and teaching younger girls.
Crush the idea of girls bitchy/catty to each other.
Women supporting women.
Women building each other up.
Women helping women in need.
Women encouraging and inspiring each other
Older women protecting and teaching younger women.
Crush the idea of women bitchy/catty to each other.
Let’s start by not infantilizing all women with the term “girls” when they aren’t a child.
I care about the problems of men. I care that the patriarchy tells men that they have to be stoic beasts incapable of emotion. I care that the patriarchy tells men that they are lust-filled monsters incapable of controlling their own libidos. I care that the patriarchy tells men that they cannot be raped or assaulted because the patriarchy believes women are too weak and inferior to be dangerous.
Feminists did not do this to you, other men did.