I have always been a very independent person – I don’t like relying on anyone for anything. I have always been under the impression that the only person I can count on to never let me down is myself. Perhaps it is an only child trait. I never, ever wanted to be the kind of woman that relied on a man for anything; financially, emotionally, mentally.
Until I met Paul.
My rock, my soulmate, my prince. He rode up on his white horse just at the right time in my life. I was only 21 years old, had just gotten out of a six-year relationship that had gotten really ugly (yet, the ex and I remain dear friends to this day – that’s what we started as when I was just 13 years old and we were obviously better off as). I had dated a couple guys in between, but I was to be damned if I was going to be tied down to anyone again.
Again…until I met Paul.
He wasn’t my type. I was a wild girl, loved the bad boys, but then this clean-cut, all-American guy strolled into my life and I was a changed gal. I was his almost instantly and if he had dropped down on one knee a month into dating, I would have said yes without hesitation. I was attached and I hated that feeling. I couldn’t stand the thought of not being with him and always had a very real fear that he would break up with me (only at first, after about a year I relaxed). When my ex and I finally broke up for good, I packed up my stuff, moved out, and walked away from a six-year-long relationship without shedding a single tear. I had built a wall up around myself that was so high that I became a stone cold bitch.
But, not to Paul.
Now, nearly 20 years later (I still can’t believe it has been almost two decades since he danced into my life), I quite literally could not live without him. He is a best friend, a constant companion, a dance partner, a financial advisor, a caretaker, a comedian, and the one and only love of my life. There is no me without him. Plain and simple. He turned me into a person I never wanted to become and as of this weekend I can finally admit it – I am dependent on him. I need him.
Yet, I don’t deserve him.
It finally snapped in me as I sobbed on his shoulder Friday night while I’m yet again fighting a nasty bout of depression. All of the things I criticized about myself were erased by this man who does everything in his power to build me up and make me happy. I hate myself, I hate the way I look, I think I’m a failure at everything I try to accomplish, I think I’m a bad mom…all squashed by counterpoints from him. I have everything I need under this roof – the love of this beautiful man who I absolutely adore. Now, don’t get me wrong – I drive him absolutely batshit insane and vice versa, but we adore each other. We were at a wedding this weekend and as we walked in he pulled me close and said, “You don’t look pretty…”
*gasp! What!? Ass. I worked f***ing hard to look presentable*
“…You look absolutely stunning.”
Can you still get butterflies in your stomach after 20 years? I can tell you that yes indeed, you can.