I got married when i was 20 to a man that by all accounts wasn't bad, but he wasn't good for me. Long story short, I was married to a loser. He didn't necessarily do anything wrong, he just didn't do anything at all. Now, I am not a "typical woman" if there even is such a thing. I love myself. Sure, there are things I want to improve, but I don't have a problem with my age, or intelligence, or what my body looks like, or my personality- those things that seem to stereotypically plague women just don't bother me for whatever reason. I have a career where I make more than enough money on my own to live comfortably. I know how to use power tools, fix my own car, and google the shit out of anything else that needs to be done.  I say what I mean, and expect others to do the same, none of this passive-aggressive nonsense. But I'm stubborn as a mule, and marriages are supposed to last, so even though I was the primary breadwinner, and did most of the things around the house, and raised my kids mostly on my own, I still spent 13 years in that worthless marriage. At the end of the day, my husband felt like I didn't need him, because I am very capable. But he was wrong. I needed support. I needed a partner, a friend. Even someone who would see how hard I was working to just keep my head above water. I couldn't manage EVERYTHING on my own; and I still can't.  

For some perspective at how emotionally isolated I was, I struggled with infertility for three years; I had to take tons of medications & shots that made me sick, tired, have hot flashes, body aches, and migraines for those years; not to mention the emotional drain of every month without fail seeing a single pink line on that damn stick. The emotion of going through a bulk pack of pregnancy tests, or taking photos of your cousin's child's first birthday (for the child they conceived after you started trying), is just... a lot to bear; I was very open with my struggles, because i think it helped other people too. Somehow, my husband wasn't even aware this was a thing that i was needing support in. he had no idea. and it's not because i didn't tell him or directly ask him. he just was that thick and lost. he was a five year old trapped as an adult- lacking the ability to give support in that way. 

And once I had kids, he was actually more of a burden than a help. I spent most of my time walking on eggshells, trying to balance being exhausted from a high-demand job, making dinner, and praying the kids (who are all-around good kids) didn't do anything to "poke the bear" while my husband played games on his phone and mostly ignored them. I spent more time trying to keep them from upsetting him than anything else.

When i finally asked him to please leave, everything improved immediately. I could breathe again. I was free of so much dead weight. I was so, so happy to just not-have-him around. It was so much better, I never looked back, and I was ok on my own. Sure, I crawled in to bed every night, feeling ready to collapse at the end of the day. Kids are demanding, after all. But I was free. And I was happy. 

But it wears on you. I have an unfair amount of help in my life. I have a six figure salary and live well within my means. I have family that watches my children when i need. I have amazing neighbors and a church family that pitches in often whenever I need a hand, and still, i had many, many, days where I was so tired from thinking all day, coming home to my screaming 4 year old, and my 10 year old yammering about a tv show, and the dog yapping at the door and the cat under my feet crying, and it's so much. everything needs me, all the time. Notice, I didn't say want. They needed me. Feeling needed is great, but most days I was a mostly empty cup that was trying to wring out every last drop to pour into my little family, and there simply wasn't enough to go around.

Did I ever think of dating? lol, no. Who has time for that? I sure didn't. I was busy enough, and i clearly was ok on my own. Besides, who would want to date a woman who had little kids, and was by all accounts completely independent and very successful? I was sure as hell not ever looking to date for "fun"- ain't nobody got time fo dat! Not to mention, I'm not going to go out of my way to meet anyone, my standards were WAY high after my ex, and again, that's just time i don't have for something i didn't see any particular need for. 

So that's when God said "Hold my beer" and cracked his knuckles.

He was an intern that summer; an absolutely brilliant one. Good looking, hard working, personable, did crazy things like fix his own car, and budget. But there was an over 10 year age gap, and there surely wasn't a chance in hell this guy would want to chill out with (much older) me and my kids in our simple suburban lives. Summer flew by, and before I knew it, he was gone back to school. But he happened to be back for the weekend, and much to our mutual surprise, he kissed me... and we've been a thing ever since.

Oh. My. God. If I knew this was what healthy relationships were... Ya'll. I can't even with this guy. He uses his words to tell me what he's thinking and feeling, even if he is pretty sure i'm not gonna like it. You GUYS. I don't have to guess what he's thinking! He just tells me! What a gift... he budgets, he watches his money. This man is 22 years old and has a credit score over 800! I can talk to him for an entire day about deep stuff, like existential things, or science, movies, tv shows, or books with actual plot lines and not just explosions. He asks me about my day, every day, and when i tell him, he actually remembers and cares. I don't have a single **** to give about getting flowers or jewelry or any of that other crap, I just want a companion, ya know? So for valentine's day, he flooded my inboxes on every possible channel he has to contact me with everything he could think of to make me smile-- memes, sweet love notes, pictures of cats, whatever. The first time i went to his apartment (he's got several roommates), i was DEAD TIRED from the day, and pretty much passed out on his bed. I woke up like 2-3 hours later and was talking with one of his roommates and found out that he had gone around to all the doors close by and wd-40'd them while i slept to make sure the squeaking didn't wake me up.

He cleans up. He cooks, he wants to try new things and do new things. He is appreciative! OMG you guys! He actually says things like "wow, this dinner is amazing, thank you so much for cooking!" or "wow, you are really good at x, that is so cool!" get this you guys- this is crazy. There was this one day I had gone pretty far out of my way to do him a favor, (very happily), but he was weirdly short when i got there to deliver the items to him. very uncharacteristic. After i left i was thinking I should probably call and tell him i didn't appreciate that very much, but was everything ok?-- when the phone rang. he was calling to apologize for being so short with me, he realized after i left he was being rude and he was very, very appreciative. this man OWNED his mistake and APOLOGIZED immediately! WHAT. IS. THIS?! Shut the front door!

And he calls me on my bullshit. God, I love that. If I'm being ridiculous, I want to know it-- and he tells me! He does not let me get away with it. And damned if he's not the same way-- I don't even know how to handle a mature adult... it's so wonderfullll

he leaned in to the kids thing. last week he came over for dinner. my four year old was in a special mood. usually she's the spunkiest kid around, but she was being a grade-a turd that night. i was already about to breakdown when he got there with some of the dinner food. he took one look at me, gave me a quick hug, and said he'd take my daughter out in the back yard for a minute if that was ok... OK?! hell yes, please take it! and he took the dog too. are you kidding me, i can cook dinner without things yapping at me?! i about cried. he came in after a few minutes and asked me if i was ok, and what he could do to help. i was still pretty frazzled, and just muttered "yeah i'm frazzled, i don't really even know..." he just gave me a long hug, and said he was there for me, and it'd be ok. gave me a peck on the forehead and took off to play with the kids again outside. Then he brought them in and got them to help set the table. he did everything, i have never in my entire adult life gotten to sit down for dinner while everyone else gets the table set and food ready and drinks and etc. After dinner, he made a point of telling the kids he couldn't play till he helped me clean up. and by helped, he meant do everything for me. I literally didn't know what to do with myself you guys. I didn't have anything to do... it was... so... nice.  I tell my man all the time how appreciative i am of him, and he feels uncomfortable about it because he doesn't think he's doing anything special. Guys, he thinks this is normal and everyone is like that. What?! False. These men are few and far between from what i've seen.

The craziest thing to me here is he wants me. he. wants. me. What in the ever living hell is wrong with this man?? He is in his senior year of college, he could do anything he wants, the world is his oyster. Oh sure, he could have tumblr'd his way through a gazillion hot college girls his own age; that weren't long-distance, that didn't have kids, but no. He picked me. Me, with my baggage, and my kids, and my stretch marks, and my sarcasm for days. Me, that is hard headed and opinionated, and can barely hold it together every day. I don't know what I did to get this guy, but I'm sure as hell gonna do everything i can to make him as happy as he makes me every day. My heart didn't even know i needed him...

Paul stared at his wife across the table, noticing for the first time that her sweater was on inside out. Every morning he would lay out her clothes on the bed in a specific order, so she’d know which item to put on first. But it didn’t guarantee how Elaine would put on each piece. He’d have to pay more attention before they went out.

Their usual waitress, Sarah, appeared, holding a large tray with two sweet teas on it. “How y’all doin’ today?”

With Alzheimer’s disease, there were good days, and then there were challenging days. It was one of the latter. Elaine was preoccupied, scrubbing a stain on the wooden table with her finger, forgetting it was a permanent fixture of their booth. They’d been lunching at this diner once a week for years. That blemish had been there since day one.

“Today’s actually a very special day for us. It’s our fifty-seventh wedding anniversary.” His wife stopped fidgeting and looked up. “The day she took a chance on a broke, balding fellow by saying, ‘I do,'” he said with a wink in her direction.

“It is?” Elaine asked.

“Yep, sweetheart, it is.”

“Congratulations, you two! Ms. Sue fixed up some of her key lime pie today and I’ll make sure y’all have a slice on the house before you go. Stickin’ with the Cobb salad and tomato soup?”

“That’s it.” Paul replied.

She nodded and turned, then swung back around. “I just remembered. We ran out of tomato soup about an hour ago. Chicken noodle ok?”

Paul looked at his wife, now scrubbing away at the stain with a napkin.

“Elaine?”

“Hmmm,” she said, again focused on the table.

“They’re out of the tomato soup. Do you want chicken noodle? Or a sandwich instead?” She looked confused, so he pointed to the menu and showed her a few other items he thought she’d enjoy, but she was having a hard time picking something new.

Suddenly she began to cry. “I want to go home. Please can we go home?” she begged.

“Honey, Sarah has already brought us our drinks. Don’t you think we should stay a little longer? I know you like tomato soup, but I’m sure their chicken noodle is delicious.”

That only made her cry harder. Sarah apologized on behalf of the restaurant for running out. Other customers glanced in their direction, wondering what all the commotion was about.

He sighed and reached back for his wallet, then placed a ten-dollar bill on the table.

“I’m sorry. We’ll catch you next week.”

Sarah gave him an understanding look and told him she’d bring the pie and some to-go cups of tea out to their car. He thanked her as he rose to help his wife out of the booth. He always tried to make their days as hiccup-free as possible, but sometimes, there just wasn’t any tomato soup.

***

Elaine stopped crying on the way home but appeared anxious, and kept asking him what day it was.

He hesitated to say the date, conjecturing that at least part of her current emotional state was because she hadn’t realized it was their anniversary. With her dementia he didn’t think a thing of it, but worried she might become upset with herself.

“Today is Wednesday.”

She furrowed her brow, a tell-tale sign she was struggling to grasp some distant memory or word.

When she asked what day it was for the third time during their twenty-minute drive, he gave in. “It’s Wednesday, January 7th.”

“That’s the day we got married!”

“Yes, it is,” he said, pulling up into their driveway.

He helped his wife sit on the living room couch before setting up two dinner trays and turning the TV to a re-run of The Price is Right.

“I’ll be right back to join you,” he reassured her.

Once in the kitchen, he walked past the cabinets labeled bowls/plates, mugs/glasses, and cereal to find the one with soup written on it. He’d marked them all to help her stay as independent as possible, especially since she loved to cook. In the past few months, however, he’d taken over the role as primary chef. Relief swept over him when he found some tomato soup in the back-right corner of the cabinet.

Conscious of his stiff, arthritic hands, he carefully lowered two bowls and filled them with the liquid contents before putting Elaine’s dish in the microwave. As he stood there watching the timer count down, the sound of Pachelbel floated into the kitchen.

His wife had been a music teacher, so they’d always had a piano in the living room. She hadn’t played much lately, though. He suspected it was because she now had difficulty sight-reading the music.

Walking back into the room, he found Elaine bent over the piano playing Canon in D from muscle memory. He was struck at how her fingers, still so capable and sure, glided over the keys. An image of her coming down the aisle towards him in a stunning white dress filled his head, those same lovely hands holding a bouquet of the yellow daisies he’d gathered for her from his garden. It had been a simple wedding, but that’s what they’d wanted.

He waited until she’d finished before taking a seat beside her on the bench. Bringing the back of her hand to his mouth, he planted a kiss as she beamed the same beautiful grin she had on their wedding day.

“My favorite song,” he whispered, choking up.

She gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “That’s why I played it for you.” Now it was his turn to cry.

“I love you, Paul.”

“I can see that.” He nodded. “I love you so much. Now how would you like to share some tomato soup with me?”

Her face fell a little. “I was hoping for......