Posted in confessions, crushes, Family, Husband, Kids, love, Marriage, Relationships, The Meaning of Life, Uncategorized, wife

A Love Story…


This is a love story. It starts with a boy in one town and a girl in another, staring at a computer screen. They were two strangers looking at a few pictures and the occassional email of what the other portrayed themselves to be.

He appeared confident (really, he was shy). He looked nice (really, he was bitter). He appeared to take care of himself (really, he had stopped working out three years before). He seemed sincere (and indeed, he was).

She acted cocky (she was). She looked cute (really, she was beautiful). She seemed confident (really, she was insecure). She looked worth a try (no way did he really think it would work).

The first time he spoke with her on the phone had him grinning from ear to ear. Her voice was soft-spoken, she sounded so sweet, and she couldn’t have been more likeable. She spoke of a guy she was already dating, but all he heard from her lips were “but he lives in a different state now.”

A little more than a month passed before they ever met. During that time they spoke on the phone every single day. She got into a car accident shortly after they “found” each other, and her neck was broken. Although breaking her neck was probably one of the worst things that could have happened to her, it was a blessing in disguise for both of them. They talked for hours and hours throughout those few weeks, anticipating their first face-to-face meeting.

Emails continued to be exchanged, flirty text messages ensued, and soon enough they met for the first time. For him, he says it was “love at first sight.” If you ask her, she may give you a totally opposite answer. It was clear for them (and everyone around them), however, that they were definitely meant to be together.

This year they will hit their six-year anniversary of that meeting day. It may not seem like a lot to many, but to him—it means the world. You see, that guy in the love story is ME. That girl in the love story is my WIFE.

My beautiful wife and I
My "Beanie Baby"

Our story is still being written. Trust me, there is definitely a few chapters we both want to throw out. If we did that though, the story might change for the worse. To me, falling in love with somebody is making a commitment. I have learned enough over the past 32 1/2 years to know when I have a good thing. Believe me, I have a good thing. I try to roll with a few punches and make a few minor adjustments here and there. That not only helps me keep my sanity—but keeps my wife happy as well.

When I do mess up, the whole family feels it. When she messes up, again, the whole family feels it. We have sacrificed for our children so much, that sometimes we forget about “us.” Sometimes we forget that there is more to our happiness than just our kids and each other.

I want nothing more in my life right now than to have a happy marriage. I will do anything in my power to make that happen. A happy marriage will ensure a happy life for my whole family. Hopefully, the author of this particular love story doesn’t get writer’s block before I die…

I love you Beanie Baby.

Advertisements

Author:

Hello. I'm a 37 year old installation specialist, former bartender, husband and proud father of five children (all of which are girls).

4 thoughts on “A Love Story…

  1. Totally awesome. I hope that the union between you and your wife continues to blossom. Marriage has its rewards and struggles but in the end I would not want anything else in the world. Continue to fall in love with your wife. May the Lord continue to bless your marriage.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s