Happy Valentine’s Day

It’s come to my attention recently that this year it’s me and my partners 10 year anniversary, which kinda making me reminisce and I thought, that maybe you’d like to know the gloss version of how we met with a quick outline of the years between then and now.

 

Confession I don’t actually remember when we first started ‘dating’ it was only ever a discussion between us when I spoke to my parents, they asked if Dean (that’s his name) and I were dating, I shrugged, they said, “If you’re not, then we don’t want him in your room,” or something of that manner. I shrugged again, blushed a little and said we were. Then went to my room and told him, and though there have been some rocks, we have been together ever since.

 

So, if you can’t tell, I was young. 18 years old to his 29. Yeah, there was a laugh at this when we all learnt the age in my family, because there’s 12 year between us and 12 years between him and my parents. That was pretty much it, Dean can win the hearts of anyone, even though he looks kinda rough.

 

Anyway, I guess we should get onto how we met.

Really, its not an interesting story, nor is it anything romantic.

We worked together. At Coles. I was a checkout chick, who worked mostly nights, and he was a night filler, who also happened to be in one of MY aisle.

He was this big, dark, scary (okay, hot, but I’m shy as shit, so lust was fear in those days unless I was plastered) and dating someone I worked with.

 

Then, I think if I didn’t spend ninety percent of my time plastered, or driving in a car with exhaust fuels seeping into my winder, I might have gotten an idea of how creepy things where. But I started getting texts, I think I thought it was someone else, and by the time I realised it wasn’t, I’d actually gotten to know the arse.

The thing was, he spoke to me, and tried to engage me, when I ran the other fucking way, so he was at least persistent, which was something I needed back then.

 

Anyway the first time I thing I put here didn’t show me in any light. They weren’t great days for me…kinda showed me as a slut when I wasn’t just spent a long time wanting him—I was drunk a lot.

So where was I, oh, Dean’s persistent, was probably something to do with his age. And he called me the next day, and we got together and he came to my house, and my parents asked, and we were suddenly a ‘us’ (this didn’t happen day to day, but over a couple months)

 

Now, I have never really seen us as being long term, back then it was because I wanted big things in my life. So, he was just a person who liked spending company with me, which was something I enjoyed. And, yeah…I liked his too.  

 

The problem with my plans was the fact that I got drunk, a lot. As I’ve mentioned above. And alcohol, sex and heterosexualness spun around and made a night of Russian Rullet with my uterus…

Yeah I’m not sure how to finish that, good or bad? It’s brilliant now, I’d never exchange my son, but at the time Dean and I were in a rough patch that I’m sure if it wasn’t for this little fetus would have been the end of us. It was my decision; he wanted us together I wanted something different, with someone different.

Hell, if I think back, most of the decision was on the fact that I’m a depressant and we’d come to this point in our relationship that I would have to make it one or leave him behind. As there was a lot of shit on Dean’s side that I was happy to leave and a lot more in me that made me destroy absolutely everything in my life—relationships were my specialty.

 

Anyway, a baby was born, a son, who I stupidly said while pregnant, “hey I name the girl, you the boy” and then we found out he wanted the boy’s name, and I was like… wait! maybe we can choose together, and then we found out he was a he and my family all started calling him that stupid name, and now, it’s grown on me. Just.

 

Then we went through sickness. The Boy… oh, shit he had a rough start to his life. But we got through it, and became stronger. Then we decided we wanted another and the Girl was born, beauty she was, until she was able to speak…gods, I’m not looking forward to teen years with her, lol.

This point was the first of my near deaths, the second is below.

 

Then sickness, and 2 months of me in hospital, but still, out the other side, here we are, together and pushing on. Loving, laughing, and familying about, and though this life isn’t what I wanted it to be, I’m here and I’m happier than I thought I ever could be. and I’m grateful that he gets me and I get him, and that he’s here, even though he was meant to upgrade me at 21—ok, so that became 22 because, he couldn’t leave his pregnant misses.

 

The thing is, our romance isn’t flowers and chocolate. It isn’t ‘soul’ mates and teary speeches. It isn’t proposals in the sky, which is fucking perfect because I couldn’t deal with someone like that. Instead, it’s water fights in the kitchen and cuddling on the lounge when it’s cold and I make him. And being ourselves and getting that there’s someone who’s okay with that. Who’s just the same and loves you because of it.

 

It’s about the stupidness of how easily we had it, when you think of all those out there who haven’t come across that person they love. Or who have to work hard at getting the rights to have kids when I just fucked up and walla, a baby.

 

It’s about the facts that Dean and me don’t sleep in the same bed, because he’s got so much crap that annoys the shit out of me there, but who fuck wherever we can be bothered. Who joke about the bitchiness of each other and our daily ‘love yous’ happen to be sarcastic remarks when the other didn’t hear the real thing we said.

 

Our love is about being us and we are peoples who don’t need to live in each other’s pockets or change anything about the other because what’s the fucking point. he was who I fell for and he will be him until he dies…which I was gonna add a sarcastic remark that would have only really worked for those people who knew us well.

 

I love the big guy and I know he loves me, because at the end of the day, he comes home to us and he stays, when I’ve never held him down. Because what’s the point of keeping someone who would rather be elsewhere.

 

I’m sure that’s a whole lot more I could tell you about us but it’s a romantic day and this is just the start, maybe next year I can tell you about our dinner by head lights, though I’m sure if you think hard you can figure out where I’m heading.

 

Have a great Valentine’s Day, whether you’re with another or alone. And just remember, I have a partner, for nearly 10 years and the only Valentines I’ve ever gotten where the ones I gave myself. Oh, and sex…which was sometimes that way as well *smiles*