The Moment I Knew He Was "The One"

Ready for more mushy love stuff?  Drink it in now, you guys, because it'll probably be another year before I give you this much mush!

I read this article a few weeks ago and actually saved it to my computer to read again later because it was that good and I loved it that much.  The article is titled "10 Husbands Share The Moment They Knew They Wanted To Marry Her" and I loved every word of it.  It's not often you hear lovely anecdotes like these from the man's perspective, and most of them were incredibly sweet.  So, of course, it got me thinking about Scott and me and "the moment" I knew he was the one.  And, honestly?  There wasn't one.

Because there were so many little moments where I just knew that he was it.   

• Like after our first date.  We doubled with my sister and {now} brother-in-law, and went to a pizza place {Vito's} and then a movie {The Ring}.  During dinner, he made a teeny dig at me about my height and, at first, I didn't know whether to laugh or to run in the opposite direction and call it a night.  I chose to laugh and ended up being grateful to him for "breaking the ice".  In the end, I was way more comfortable after that than I would have been had our date been more formal and overly-pleasant.

• When he told me he fell for me the day we met.   If you read my last post, you know that I most definitely did not look my best on that day.  I woke up late for class and ran out of my room with no makeup on, hair in a messy ponytail, dressed in sweatpants and a hoodie, with a handful of tic tacs shoved down my throat in lieu of brushing my teeth that morning.  To this day, Scott tells me that was the day he fell for me and that I looked beautiful to him, messy hair, sweats, and all.  Any man who spends your entire relationship telling you that you're gorgeous without makeup and looking, quite possibly, your worst is nothing short of a keeper. 

• All the times he brought me coffee.  Back when we were in college, he used to wake up at what {to me} felt like the crack of dawn to go workout with his friend and roommate.  They'd leave and I would go back to sleep and wake up a couple hours later to the sweet smells of coffee and oatmeal.  Every time.  It was so wonderful to know that he was thinking about me...and, I'm not gonna lie, the coffee was a damn good bonus.

• When he met my parents for the first time.   I'd only had one serious boyfriend before Scott and, needless to say, that boyfriend had not won my family's hearts {I can't be certain, but I think it's a safe bet that at least one of my parents did a happy dance the day we broke up}.  So I was ridiculously nervous for Scott to meet them.  I tried to prep him beforehand:   "My dad isn't much of a talker, so don't be bummed if he doesn't speak to you much.  Or, like, at all." and  "My mom can be kind of overbearing.  She's got good intentions, but she's going to be hard on you.  And she's a little bit scary."  I was entirely convinced that they were going to offend him in some way and he was going to realize that I was really not worth all the trouble, and run for the hills.  So, the day he met my parents, when he called my mom "Mom" immediately and engaged my dad in conversation about God-knows-what-because-Scott-is-happy-talk-about-anything-with-anyone, I was shocked/thrilled/convinced it was a fluke.  And then when he kept coming back and actually spending time with my family rather than running to the basement to avoid them like some other boy had always done, I knew he was it.

• After our first "real" kiss.  Not the quick "I'm on my way out the door" little pecks, but our first honest-to-God kiss.  Oh, that kiss was magic.  Romance and fireworks and everything you could want in a first kiss.  He had me right then and there.

• When I met his parents for the first time.  I was so incredibly nervous.  Will they like me?  Will they hate me?  Will they pull him aside later and tell him to do better?  The minute I walked through their front door, though, I was hooked.  They were sweet and funny and you could just tell by looking at them how much they loved each other and enjoyed each other's company.  From that very first day, they invited me into their family and have been nothing but wonderful to me, and I'm so blessed to have them in my life.

• When his best friend told him I wasn't good enough.  Scott made a big deal out of me meeting his best friend, and had planned a nice double date with his friend and his friend's girlfriend.  They'd grown up together and Scott was so excited for me to meet him and I wanted so badly to make a good impression.  We met up and, social awkwardness aside, I thought it went pretty well.  I'm quiet by nature, but I took part in conversation and was polite, and I felt pretty good about everything by the time we left the restaurant that evening.  But the next day, Scott's friend told him that he didn't think I was good enough for him...that Scott had loved his last girlfriend more than he did me, that she {the last girlfriend} was a better match for him, and that he didn't think we would last.  Most people would have listened to their friend and dropped me like a bad habit.  Hell, I'd have dropped a significant other like a bad habit if my best friend didn't like them.  But Scott didn't.  He told his friend that he was wrong, that I was a great girl and that he loved me.  Twelve years later, we're coming up on our 5th wedding anniversary and have two beautiful kids.  Scott has lost touch with this particular "friend" {not because of me...I feel like it's important to note this} and they haven't seen each other in years.  From that very first day, he knew he wanted me and that we had something, and he didn't just let it all go because of his friend's opinion.  I didn't find out that any of this had happened until a few months down the road.  But when I did, when I realized that he was, in essence, sacrificing a friendship for our relationship?  I knew he was it. 

•  Those first few nights we fell asleep together.  I'm talking way back at the beginning of our relationship.  I spent most nights in Scott's room {because college}and those teeny little dorm beds didn't leave much room for stretching out.  So we snuggled up nice and close, and I will never forget that first night.   I remember being wrapped up in his arms, all cozy and comfortable, and just as I closed my eyes he whispered in my ear that I was beautiful and that he loved me...I fell asleep listening to those words and I don't think I've ever had such a good night's rest.  The next night he sang a song {ridiculously off-key, but it's the thought that counts and no song has ever sounded sweeter}.  The night after that it was more talking.  Being with someone who was so comfortable talking and sharing his feelings and singing softly to me was brand new and surprising to me.  That first night I was pleasantly surprised.  By night two, I was downright giddy with happiness.  By night three, I was a goner. 

• After our first fight.  This was our stupidest fight to date--we'd been dating for just a few weeks when I went on a trip with a few friends to visit some of our other friends from high school at Penn State.  The trip had been planned before I'd even met Scott and I was really looking forward to it.  Scott didn't want me to go because I'd be traveling with two friends of mine who were...{gasp!}...guys, and we'd be gone the entire day.  I didn't care that he didn't want me to go because I'd already had the trip planned, I was excited about it, and who the hell was he to tell me I couldn't go, right?  So I went, and I had a blast, and I didn't get back to our dorm until very, very late that night.  Scott had had the whole day to stew in his annoyance, which had turned into anger, and he was good and worked up by the time I got back.  And so we fought.  And it was dumb, and we both ended up angry, and I stormed off to my own dorm room to think angry thoughts about him.  And then a little while later there was a knock on my door and there he was.  And the first words out of his mouth were "I'm sorry".  Honest.  Sincere.  And I melted.  No one had ever apologized to me before.  Ever.  I wasn't expecting it.  Truthfully, I'd expected never to see him again because I'm dramatic and self-destructive like that.  But there he was, apologizing, and looking all handsome and sexy without meaning to.  And that quiet and genuine apology just did me in.  It was our first fight, but not our last and, to his credit, Scott is incredibly good at apologizing when he's wrong.  And sometimes even when he's not wrong.  He's better at apologies than I am.  Much better.  And after that very first apology, I knew that just about any other fight we had {and I knew there'd be others} would end okay.  And I knew that there wasn't anyone else I'd rather argue with.  He was it. 

• The year he brought New York to me.  I've always loved New York and had told him him how much I loved it at Christmas time.  One of our first few years together, he built me New York for Christmas.  Yes, built it.  For me.  He came over to exchange Christmas presents, and he walked in the front door lugging this giant box covered with a blanket and I thought, Oh God...what is that?!  And then he took that blanket off and there was a miniature New York, complete with snow and a Christmas tree and little shops all lit up and people walking around and ice skating, and a promise ring in a small box nestled in the snow.  He'd spent I-don't-know-how-long building it for me and he was so proud of himself {"I used a saw!"}, and it was absolutely perfect.  And I knew, yet again, after putting so much work and effort into something for me, that he was the one.  I kept that New York scene for years, right up until we moved out of our parents' houses and into a home of our own and Scott told me that it was time to let it go.  

• That time I got stupid drunk and accidentally blew him off.  We'd had plans one night to grab a pizza and hang out in Scott's dorm room with a friend who was visiting.  Before our friend got there, Scott and I were hanging out in my room {something that didn't happen often} and drinking Mike's Hard Lemonade with my roommate and her boyfriend.  At one point, Scott looked at his watch and said that it was almost time for our friend to arrive, so I told him to head over to his room and come back and get me when our friend got there.  And then I proceeded to {accidentally} get ludicrously drunk.  On Mike's Hard Lemonade...because, again, college.  I don't remember the rest of that night, other than a few little snippets here and there.  I remember Scott coming back to get me and me telling him I wanted to finish my drink and that I'd be down in a little while.  I don't remember finishing my drink and I don't remember how I got there, but I do remember making it to Scott's room, where I spent the rest of the night alternating between throwing up in a trash can while he held my hair back and passing out.  The next morning I woke up to a horrible hangover and an understandably pissed off boyfriend.  And he had every right to be pissed off.  Regardless of the fact that I didn't mean to, I'd blown him off the night before and ruined our plans.  I was an asshole.  But, still, he took care of me that day.  I spent the entire morning recovering in bed, and he popped in and out to check on me between his classes.  He brought me soup and coffee when my stomach could handle it and joked about the fact that I literally could not remember getting to his room or keeping him up the entire night while I vomited every few minutes. I didn't even remember seeing our friend.  Had the situation been reversed, there's no doubt in my mind that I'd have stayed angry for days and just let him wallow in his hungover misery.  But Scott is a better person than I am.  Once the overwhelming feeling of nausea and wishes for a swift death had subsided, it hit me good and hard.  I had a good guy.  A great guy.  And I'd be an idiot to let him go.  He was it.  

• When he planned an amazing birthday for me.  Most of my birthdays have been wonderful, but my 22nd will always stand out.  We'd been dating for almost 4 years by that point and, if I remember correctly, I'd had these grand ideas that turning 21 the year before would magically turn me into some cool and sophisticated chick and, when that obviously didn't happen, I was crushed.  So, when my 22nd birthday rolled around, I wasn't expecting much.  I'm a summer birthday, and it usually falls right around the time that my family goes to the beach for vacation, something I look forward to all year long.  That year, Scott kept bugging me to stay home the Saturday that everyone else left and I remember being so annoyed about it, but I stayed back.  And was so, so glad that I did.  Early that afternoon, he told me to hop in the car for the first part of my birthday present, and wouldn't tell me where we were going until we pulled up in front of a spa.  He'd set everything up for me to get a massage and a manicure and pedicure, and told me to relax and enjoy myself while he went home to cook me a birthday dinner, and that he'd be back in a few hours to pick me up.  He'd set everything up ahead of time so that everyone working there knew it was my birthday and that this had been a surprise, so everyone kept wishing me happy birthday and offering me coffee and champagne, and I had a truly relaxing and fabulous time.  He was waiting for me when I was all finished and when we walked in my parents' front door, the house smelled amazing.  He'd baked a cake and cooked my favorite dinner and had everything set up on the back porch so that we could have dinner outside by  candlelight.  It was the most perfect meal I've ever had and I couldn't believe how much effort he'd put into making the day special for me.  It was truly incredible.

• Every single day of every single year since I met him. 

I don't say it enough, but I married an incredible man.  To this day, I don't know how I got so lucky but I'm so thankful that I did.  He's good to me and he loves me and there has never been a day where I doubted that he was the one for me.  At the beginning of our relationship, I held back.  A lot.  I'd been recently dumped and, in the way that only an overly dramatic and angsty teenager could, I felt like I wasn't good enough and that no one else would ever love me again.  And then Scott came along, and he was all lovey dovey and sweet from the get-go, and for the longest time I refused to give in to it or to him.  But when I fell?  Oh man, I fell so hard.  And I've never looked back.  I love him more every day and there is no one --no one-- that I would rather stumble, walk, and find my way through this life with.  I don't tell him enough, but I'm so happy and grateful for him.  He's The One.

And always has been.