Casual musings from one woman to the world

My love

My husband is my favorite person on this planet.  I think your spouse has to be your favorite being, otherwise, what’s the point?  I see so many relationships, whether it is coworkers, celebrities, or other observed couples, who are imbalanced, unhappy or just not right for each other.  The gauge that I have always applied to our relationship, and other relationships that I see and judge, is the following:  if you could live without the person, then maybe you should.  I could never live without my husband.  My life would not be complete and to be honest, it wouldn’t be the life that I want to live because he defines a huge part of me.  Case in point:  We have been together for over half of our lives, we have grown from kids to adults as best friends and partners, and we have united into one solid unit.  So, with all of that said, being without him would be like being without my complete self.

He and I met when he was 15 and I was 16, after I left my preppity-prep boarding school in New England.  The night before I was slated to move in for my Junior year, I remember walking downstairs to proudly exclaim to my mother that I was not going back!  This exclamation was immediately replied to with, “Ok, we will call the school in the morning and see what they say.”  Yet another outstanding example of what a wonderful mom she was and is.  I assume a lot of other parents would’ve been upset, worried, or just plain mad that I was putting a hitch in everyone’s giddy-up.  My mom, on the other hand, always wanted what was best for me and what made me happy. She didn’t skip a beat and by the following day, another young lady from the prep school waiting list had taken my place and I was off the hook, no strings attached and no tuition withheld.  Woohoo! To public school that Fall I went…

And that’s where I met my husband (let’s call him Hugo).  His name really isn’t Hugo but one of my co-workers called him that on accident recently and it has since stuck as a sweet alter-ego.  And for confidentiality purposes, and respect purposes, Hugo he shall be.  Hugo and I became friends through friends and I immediately had a crush on him.  He was shy and kind and cute in that high school boy kind of way.  We hooked up a few times but nothing truly developed prior to my leaving for college, since I graduated a year ahead of him.  Once I was 300 miles away at school, he came to visit a few times and we always kept in touch.  At the root of it, we were friends and there was a closeness that developed that we obviously still have to this day.  After the two of us attended a little bit of college, without any true focus or idea of what we really wanted to do in life, I distinctly remember asking Hugo if he wanted to move cross-country with me.  The goal: to move somewhere warm, to discover something new, and to see where life took us as we embarked on our 20s.

Well, the rest is history.  On July 31st, 2004, we packed up his old Saab hatchback, with our bags, our bodies and my female Rottweiler Marley (RIP, first Rottie in our lives and she was wonderful).  We drove (actually, he drove) for five days straight, as we survived on McDonald’s and motels, in an effort to quickly make the trek and not waste any time.  In hindsight now, and of course with quite a bit more bank account funding, I really wish we had taken more time to explore this amazing country.  It just wasn’t possible at the time but I would love to go back and take that trip with Hugo one more time 🙂

We got to the left coast, moved into the studio apartment that my mom and I had found the month prior, and our lives began…together.  From that August on, Hugo and I have not been apart.  Our close friendship just naturally morphed into a dating relationship.  We spent every day together and did everything together, by choice, not necessity.  He was mine and I was his.  And the best part is that that still rings true.

We both established ourselves professionally, moved out of our apartments and bought our first townhouse together.  Sitting on the couch as we celebrated “our” Christmas on December 28th, 2008 (because of work we had to sometimes do our holidays slightly offset), we exchanged presents and hugged each other.  After the presents were done, Hugo looked at me, said a few sweet words, and proposed.  A few months later, I became his wife.

I guess I share all of this because I am so proud and thankful for this wonderful man in my life.  Over the past eighteen years of knowing each other, 14 years of friendship, and nine years as a married couple, every day has not been perfect.  But mostly every day has.  And the days that weren’t, we worked hard at correcting them and finding our way.  We recently had a conversation on our couch about how our relationship has evolved into an even better, smoother running beast than it ever has been.  We have worked hard at being the best versions of ourselves for each other and correcting issues that stood in the way of us being happy.

And as I type this, with my post-op knee elevated on the couch, my loving husband is making us mushroom risotto in the kitchen.  Life really is good.

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