Our Story: A History of Love and Tolerance

The year was 1996. She was nine years old and new to the United States after living most of her life in Europe as an Army brat. It was an awkward age, moving countries while simultaneously growing up and away from her beloved Barbies. Thankfully, cable TV and reruns of Lois and Clark helped ease the transition. He was twelve and had discovered the joys of middle school, like hair gel, band and football practice, and long walks home in the Texas heat.

It wasn’t love at first sight– they’re not even sure when they saw each other for the first time. Despite attending the same small church, they wouldn’t be aware of each other for another two years when she was promoted to the youth group and was known as his friend’s little sister. Eventually, she grew up more and earned the title of friend all on her own. By the summer of 2003, you could even say they were best friends. They spent most of their time hanging out and going to the movies, riding in his car with the smashed-in driver’s door and no air conditioning, a miserable heat made tolerable only by each other’s company.

It was during one of their many trips to the movie theater that summer that their outing surprisingly turned into a first date when they found themselves holding hands before the credits rolled. Despite their close friendship, the courtship was brief, torn apart by his departure to college, her junior year of high school, and the nature of immaturity and divergent lives. It should also be noted that when asked by her mother if they were dating, she repeatedly denied the claims. She is sorry for lying to her mother.

After two years apart, they came back together again. This time, she was a newly minted high school graduate with her own car, complete with air conditioning and a tassel hanging on the rearview mirror. He had upgraded his car to one with A/C and stick shift, which he promised to teach her how to drive. It has remained the most prominent broken promise of their relationship.

After another summer spent in each other’s company, they knew that this time was different. The details of who fell first or who said I love you first have been lost to their thirties’ faulty memories. There wasn’t a lightbulb moment, no overwhelming epiphany of love, no butterflies in each other’s presence. It was simply a sense that when they were together, everything was right. She was a flighty, flaky, almost adult with no clue what she wanted out of life. But she knew she wanted him and would choose him for the rest of her life. He was a responsible, independent, mostly adult, and he loved her, flaws and all. Yes, they were young, but she was slightly more mature than the last time, which is why she finally told her mom.

Months followed with the inevitable drama of young love and long-distance relationships. But they weathered the storms and soon found themselves engaged. A few months later saw the wedding of her dreams, and a week after that, he shipped off to boot camp. They were married six months before they could both live in the same apartment.

Even though they had grown up together, sharing a home would teach them even more about each other. She would learn that he sneezes so loudly he’s practically yelling. He would discover that she has a knack for losing the remote and for hogging the covers. They would also learn that she has a strong distaste for the morning, and while not his favorite, he is at least a functional human being. Together they would find that it is possible to argue about dishes for years without successfully resolving the issue.

Her poor cooking skills were on display in the early years of their marriage, and while time and necessity bore improvement, he is still the better cook. He is also the better driver– watching him parallel park is a thing of beauty– consequently, she defers most driving tasks to him. Furthermore, he is more socially adept than she, as well as being neater and more organized, and he possess faster reflexes and coordination. But, she is the better singer, so she has that going for her. As partners in their marriage, he wears the pants because that is his work uniform, and she wears the leggings because they are stretchy and comfortable.

Six years after getting married, they welcomed their first child and then three more within the next five years. The wild ride taught them even more about themselves and each other than they could have imagined. For example, it turns out neither of them is all that patient. Or maybe they were, but the children have sucked it out of them like adorable little leeches. They previously believed that she was the most stubborn in their family, but that changed when their second child was born. Her stubbornness pales compared to their son, though it has been unwisely suggested that perhaps it’s a genetic trait. They have also learned they are highly sensitive people, easily irritated by loud noises and interruptions, which is the constant state of their home lives. As such, they decided to add one more child to the mix because the more, the merrier.

In spite of all of the interesting and frustrating things they’ve learned about each other over the last 15 years, they still enjoy each other’s company. He makes her laugh, and she shares funny memes with him that occasionally make him chuckle. They finish each other’s sentences and still call jinx when they do. They also finish each other’s sandwiches, sometimes without permission, usually without fighting. They have both had ample opportunity to eat humble pie when it turns out they’re wrong, and they’ve both been offered plenty of practice in the art of apology. They do their best to support, encourage, and love one another, and even when they’re mad at each other, it doesn’t shake the bone-deep knowledge that together, everything is right.