I Got Super Lucky at Sixteen to Meet the Man of My Dreams

I know, I know, at sixteen, how can you know? But I knew from the first kiss he was it. I also know how cliché this sounds from that "first kiss" I knew. He was just different, he cared about not only how I felt, but how I experienced things with him. He didn't have much money, as we were both focusing on just finishing high school but he made the most out of our days together. My mother always said "marry the man who will climb mountains for you," well this guy had no car so he biked thirteen miles to my house twice a day for seven days just to spend maybe three hours with me. Was he it? He went from helping me clean my childhood room to being the only person who wanted to stick around.

It started well at sixteen and he was just turned nineteen (I know age gap blah he's a good guy). He kept trying to message me and I just wanted to blow him off. I did not know he was my crush, his profile picture to his old Myspace wasn't his face. But he got my attention by writing his own fairytale just for me. It's crazy and I still have it from way back and it was "The tale of a thousand golden bull frog testicles." The story was so off the wall, he grabbed my attention finally. I still didn't know what he looked like but we talked. We talked for a month before I asked to meet him, when I did I not once in my life experienced what I did that day.

Guys have never made me nervous, especially guys I chased in pursuing a relationship. I think it was because I really didn't like them the chase was it for me. But when I saw him my hands started sweating and I felt sick to my stomach, was it really my crush. He walked over and sure enough it was him. We both talked some more and admitted feelings. We had been dating some weeks, and this one particular day my room was a wreck and I had gobs of homework. He came over and helped me clean and helped with my homework, I had never had this. My last boyfriend got so mad if I had homework that he would literally throw fits if he couldn't come over. It was night-time and just being honest here I had already been sexually active (yes I know young but most of us were doing it at sixteen anyway) I asked him if he wanted to have sex, at first he tried but I could tell he was uncomfortable and he eventually put his clothes back on and said we needed to talk. I flipped, I messed up, oh man I ruined this I thought. I panicked so hard. He told me he didn't want to have sex, not that it was me he said I was beautiful, but he wanted to wait till he felt something more for me. Was this respect? The other guys before really kinda pressured me into a lot, I thought this is what guys wanted. I not once had a guy say he wanted feelings in this before. I still remember his words, "I don't want this to just be sex, I want this to be more than that and I want our first time to not be f****** but to make love. I'd rather make love to you than treat you as just a body." I was shocked. He left and I was totally terrified it was me, but he came back the next day and acted the same, he really was in this for feelings not just to use me.

Fast forward sometime and my parents no longer want me spending time with him, he had gone off to the Marines and they thought he was too old for me. We had been through so much three years had gone by and I was about to be nineteen myself. In my mind I'm old enough to choose, but a southern family don't care. They gave me a ultimatum, I either break up with him or be homeless. I called him crying, hysterical what was I gonna do. He said he had my back no matter what I chose. I was finishing up my senior year last couple weeks and I called him at school crying again just even more scared, he told me come live with him and he would take care of me. I asked what about school I still wanna finish, he drove me 30 minutes every morning and picked me up every day till I graduated. My parents refused to even show up to my graduation, and by that time he got sent back out again. He always made sure I had. He got to come back after some weeks, and just after my nineteenth birthday, I found out I was pregnant. I was once again scared, would he stick with me? When I told him he was beyond happy; he held my hand and said he would find a way.

Some more years went by add another six more and we had another child, I sat in a friend's bathroom after a night out crying, hysterical, feeling alone. Not one of my family honestly cared to come around and it was really hard to not have very many. I have several adopted mothers and fathers who look after me like their own but it's not the same, or well what I thought wasn't. He came into that bathroom certain of himself that day. He sat down with me and told me I had more than enough family and that he and our children loved me and wanted nothing more than to be with me and see me happy. I never felt so loved in my life and I got two sets of parents because I actually am adopted and he loved me more than all four of my parents joined.

As of January 2018 we have been together eleven years. He has stood by me with my Bipolar Disorder, my stays in the hospital for it, my crazy episodes, my sometimes crappy cooking, the days I'm sometimes super ugly and he swears I'm still prettier than Beyoncé. (Yes I know I'm not, but damn it feels good to still hear it so shush let me have my moments.) Did I get lucky? I sure did. This man proved to me after years of abuse by men there are still good ones out there. Even though I know I've been a terrible wife sometimes he still looks at me like I'm the best.