Hi, Auntie Trashy... I wanted to ask you something a bit personal. How did you know your wife was the right person for you?
To be honest, I've never been in love, but I absolutely love the idea of two people loving each other deeply. These days, that almost feels like a miracle to me because it doesn't seem to happen very often. Even so, I know it does happen.
You once mentioned that you had come out of a previous relationship, yet you still gave love another chance. I think that's incredible.
How did you know she was the one?
I do love a personal question because it gives me a chance to give a personal answer and show there’s an actual human on the other side of all the make believe I’m writing.
The simplest answer is this: I knew because Kim felt like peace.
Which sounds very lovely and romantic now, but at the time I was absolutely not looking for peace. I had come out of a serious relationship, and really, I had been in some form of relationship from 20 to 31. My entire twenties were basically one long lesson in “maybe you should learn how to be alone for five minutes, babe.”
My first long term relationship lasted four years. It was emotionally abusive, had me engaged with no wedding date in mind, had me moving 500 miles from home in complete isolation, and obviously, it didn’t work.
My second relationship started 18 days after the first one ended because apparently I had learned nothing. I moved home, stayed with my dad, got bored, joined a dating site, and met someone who felt like the total opposite of what I had just left. She was fresh out of college, had never dated anyone before, was an artist, and I thought different meant better.
We dated for two years before moving in together, got engaged after three, and again, never set a date or made an actual plan. At the time, I thought we were forever. In the end, I had moved away from home again, felt isolated from people I loved again, and there was too much damage done. Back then, I blamed her for all of it. The person I am now can say I played my part in half of the disaster too.
I moved in with a friend who had just gotten divorced, changed careers, and realized I had spent all of my twenties trying to build a life around someone else when I probably should have been single, played the field, and figured myself out.
But then again, if I had done that, I never would have met my wife.
So, I think everything happened the way it was supposed to.
At that point, I was focused on me for the first time. I decided I was going to work incredibly hard at my job and become the boss.
i won’t sugar coat this, I joined dating apps with the full intention of sleeping around. After two engagements, I had decided marriage wasn’t for me.
But I really thought I was fine being alone, and I was determined that I was just peachy like this.
I’ve talked before about how we met, so I won’t go all the way into that again, but she was different in a way I actually needed. She was mature. She was direct. She lived close to home, which felt like a win after spending so much time uprooting myself for other people. She didn’t make me guess where I stood. She didn’t make love feel like something I had to chase.
The moment I knew was one month and three days after we met.
My birthday is close to Christmas, so it has historically been lackluster at best. That day, I worked, and Kim had Cookie Day with her mom, sister, future sister-in-law, and some aunts. It’s a family tradition which I partake in now, and I was trying to be normal about it, but I missed her.
Writing wasn’t always my artistic avenue of choice. My first artistic love is creating things with my hands. I had about a thousand wine corks from a previous project for my ex’s mother, and my big birthday plan was to make a wreath out of them to waste through them. I was cranky all day. Grumpy. Pouting. Being deeply annoying, probably.
But then she came over right after cookie day.
It was cold and dark, and I went out to meet her at the car. She got out with presents, wine, and a cake she had made me herself. Fresh lemon zest and olive oil, and it was so good.
She had spent part of her Cookie Day with her baking for me. Thinking about me, wanting me to feel special. I wasn’t used to that.
Then she came inside, and we made this ridiculous wine cork wreath, and she was so into it. Into me. Into the weird little project. Into making my birthday feel like it mattered.
And I remember realizing that the second she arrived, I felt better.
Like my whole body exhaled.
That was when I knew. Not because of some huge dramatic movie moment, but because after one month, she already felt like the person I wanted beside me for the ordinary stuff. The crafts. The birthdays. The bad moods. The family mess. The quiet nights. The life stuff.
So I stopped holding back and protecting myself, I moved in with her three months after meeting her, and we have never looked back.
As I write this, she is tossing and turning in bed next to me because we both suck at sleeping, and earlier today when I got sad about family, she reminded me of exactly who I am and who I’m not. In the end, she’s my rock, my inspiration and the love of my life.
So my advice is this: real love happens when you’re actually ready for it, and you can’t rush that. Don’t chase someone just because you’re afraid to be alone. Build a life that belongs to you first.
Then, if you’re lucky, someone walks in and doesn’t make you smaller or pull you away from yourself.
They teach you what real love is. They bring you peace.
We exchanged I love yous twelve days later, the day after Christmas ❤️
As a fun little visual: Here I am in a picture Kim took after we finished what is objectively a ridiculous wine cork wreath. I’d already realized I was in love by then. Looking back, I think it’s all over my face. That’s the expression of someone thinking, “Well…this is going to change everything.” That damn wreath took like 3 hours and too many finger burns just to break a week later 🤣
