We're changing things up around here today... Your regularly scheduled hilarity will be back next week! To read part one of the Fiancee & Sara Swears a Lot story, clickity click hiz-ere.
After leaving Andy's house in such a rush the morning after our first date, I was panicked that he would think it was just a one night stand and write me off as a total slut. Little did I know, Andy was at his house worrying about the very same thing. (Well, not the slut part. Guys aren't called "sluts". I think they're just called "cool".)
(Aside: In fact, Andy STILL teases me about leaving that morning without saying goodbye. He tells me that I used him and was only interested in sleeping with him and leaving. Apparently his penis was more amazing than I expected because look how long I stuck around.)
Thankfully, we both realized that we are incredibly awkward individuals and it only took three days for Andy to say, "So... will you be my girlfriend?" to which I replied, *giggle, giggle* "Yes," because I'm a girl, and it's in our rule book to giggle when situations like this arise.
We hadn't even been dating 6 months when I started feeling the "I love you" sitting in the back of my throat. There were so many times that I wanted to say it, but the timing just didn't feel right.
And once I realized that I was undeniably in love with this man, I started freaking out. This was my first real, adult relationship. I had never experienced a connection with anyone like this. Andy had become my best friend. And realizing that scared me even more. If I lost him, if he didn't want me, if I wasn't good enough, I would not only be losing my boyfriend, but also? My best friend. The person who understood me and my weird sense of humor best.
So I did what any girl in this situation would naturally do. I became the most insecure person on the planet. Every girl that walked by was prettier than me, funnier than me, better than me. I just knew that one day, Andy would realize what a mess I am, how innappropriate I am, how boring I am.
So I started fights. I started fights over nothing because I figured if he broke up with me over a fight, at least it wouldn't be just because he didn't like me anymore. I don't know how the poor guy put up with me for a while there because every little thing hurt my feelings or set me off.
There was one night in particular that I wish I remembered better. I have no clue what our fight was about. But it was a pretty bad one. After some yelling back and forth, Andy left my apartment in a huff to go back to his house for the night.
I sat in my room in silence for an hour or so, thinking about the fight, about Andy, about our relationship. I've always been better writing things down than speaking them so I started writing Andy a letter. I told him I loved him. I told him that I loved how every day, he would come to my apartment after work and greet Jean-Claude right as he walked in the door. I told him that I wanted there to be a future for us. A future that lasted forever. A future that involved him coming home from work, greeting our kids at the door instead of our dogs.
I never gave him that letter. I don't even know what happened to it. But after writing it all down like that, I knew what I had to do.
It was 3 am on a cold night in January. I was already in my pajamas for the night, and Jean-Claude was in his kennel, ready for bed. But 3 am or not, I had to see Andy. I had to tell him I loved him. I couldn't keep holding it back anymore. It had to be said, and goddamnit, it had to be said right then.
So I threw on a coat, grabbed Jean-Claude's kennel and my purse, and we ran to the car for the longest 30 minute drive of my life.
When I pulled in the driveway, my heart was pumping like crazy. I walked up the steps to his front door and knocked quietly, almost hoping he would take a while to answer so I could form my speech in my head.
When he finally stumbled to the front door, still half asleep, he looked taken aback to see me. "What are you doing here?" he asked, still groggy. "I'm sorry for everything," I said as I immediately fell into his arms. We stood in the doorway, just holding each other, for what seemed like forever. It was like I wanted to tell him how much I loved him, but my mouth couldn't move no matter how many times my brain screamed, "Come on already!"
"I.... I, well.... I'm really sorry," I said again into his chest.
"It's just... well, I... "
"I just love you so much."
I held my breath and waited the three agonizingly long seconds it took for him to answer me.
"Really?" he said, sounding hopeful. I finally looked him straight in the eyes and was only able to nod.
"I love you, too," he said with a smile. I let out a sigh of relief as he leaned down to kiss me.
That night was the first night I ever really "made love" if you want to call it that. It was also the first time I really, truly understood what my mom had meant all those years ago when she said sex was a beautiful and special thing between two people who love each other.
People usually say that the day they get married is the beginning of the rest of their lives. But I think that that night is the night I started a new life. That night was the first night that I started becoming a better person. Everyone always says that they love somebody because they've become a better person with them or for them. But I don't necessarily think that Andy MADE me a better person. I just think that he's the one who helped bring it out.
I have grown up and learned so much since that first date. I've learned when to hold my tongue, how to be patient, and how to really, truly love myself. I look in the mirror and I see a woman now. I see someone who knows who she really she is in this crazy, fucked up world. I see someone who isn't afraid to make inappropriate jokes in public. Because I know that even if it's just the two of us laughing, that's really all that matters to me.
When my friends ask me how I know that Andy is the one for me, the one I want to be with the rest of my life, I never know quite how to answer them. How do I know I'm in love? If I wrote down all the reasons I love Andy, it probably wouldn't make sense to other people.
I love that he wakes me up smiling and joking because he knows how much I hate mornings. I love how he brings Jean-Claude to me every single night for a goodnight kiss before he puts him in his kennel. I love that every time he has to cross two lanes of traffic he says, "Good luck everybody else!" in an Asian woman's accent. I love that every day after work, we can sit on the couch for hours just talking about our days with no television, iPod, or phone distracting us from really listening to each other. I love that I can sing Disney songs at the top of my lungs (with impressions and dancing) in the car and not feel like a total idiot in front of him. I love that he made Jean-Claude a mini-hamburger for his birthday, complete with cheese on top.
I can't wait until we're that annoying old married couple that makes everyone else sick with jealousy. I can't wait until the day I get to see Andy with kids. With our kids. And I only wish that every single person in the world got to feel something like this at least once in their lives.
So that, friends, is the broad outlined version of this crazy relationship I'm in.
I don't mean to get so sappy, but I have never been happier than I am right now. And part of that is due to having this blog. So I want to be serious for two seconds when I say that you guys make me a better person, too. Because reading your blogs and hearing your comments makes me realize that I don't have to pretend I'm some normal, run-of-the-mill kind of girl. Because I'm not. I'm weird and I'm gross and I'm inappropriate and you know what? I don't give a fuck. Because you guys are weird and gross and inappropriate, too. (That was a compliment, I swear.) And we're all in this together.
So thank you for helping me realize that it's okay to talk about blow jays and vaginas around people I barely even know. Because if this is a world where we can't discuss vaginas and penises freely... I don't think I want a part in it, thankyouverymuch.
I realized that if I tried to do our entire relationship story from start to finish, it would take entirely too many "To Be Continued" endings. So I'm just going to make this into a once-every-once-in-a-while kind of thing. Just wait for the one about the proposal...
Also, I will eventually explain why the "series" is titled Not it! So be patient, bitches.