I can’t tell you how I met my husband. I can tell you how I met the man I married but we had been married a good three years before he felt like my husband. When he came into my life, he was more annoyance than potential life partner. All he did was play silly games—like a schoolboy who doesn’t know how to tell a girl he likes her so he teases and punches her. Yeah, he was like that except he wasn’t ten years old. He was 45. He simply would not leave me alone no matter how much I begged, yelled, and cried. After awhile, I learned to ignore him, so he learned to get my attention in other ways—usually through my friends and family. I have to tell you, it was downright unattractive. I kept wondering why no one would explain to him that that was not the way to win a woman’s heart. He came around after a few years—started being personable, more masculine. And he was cute. Not just on the outside but on the inside, too; he could be really lovable when he wanted to be. I didn’t marry him because I loved him, though. We never even discussed marriage; it was just the “proper” thing to do when you find yourself pregnant out of wedlock, and he wanted to be a proper father. But as I watched him—first with our son, then our daughter—I started to feel like I wanted him to be my husband. I know that sounds ridiculous, but his children brought out the best in him, and at his best, he was the most desirable man on earth. Now here we are with grandchildren, and that boy still has never asked me to marry him.
June 10, 2013
