I saw a married couple the other day. And it isn’t something that typically happens to me, but I found myself curious about them. He was a little scruffy, with his baseball cap, jeans and t-shirt. (I can really appreciate that.) And she was the kind of fancy that you knew it didn’t take her a lot of work to achieve.
But there was something, you know?
A comfort level. A chemistry. A great fit.
D. All of the above.
When she spoke he always turned to look at her. She still seemed a little of that amazing kind of slightly shy around him. They were holding hands a lot. And when they weren’t, he was touching her shoulder. It was very cute.
And they’ve been together for twenty-three years.
Someone asked how they met, and that part has already slipped my mind because, well, who cares? It’s not about how or where you meet. Rather it’s about appreciating that seemingly random confluence of events that led to it. It’s about recognizing how damn rare it is to find your other half. And It’s about holding on with everything you have when you do.
While she smiled, he added that it was love at first sight for him. I nodded. Then, in a moment of humble appreciation, he said that she wasn’t initially convinced.
I was hooked.
I am still thinking about a younger version of him seeing her and becoming instantly besotted.
I can almost feel the excitement that must have spread through his entire body.
And I wonder how he felt when she wasn’t immediately smitten. Was he heartbroken? Determined?
Maybe he was too young to appreciate the rarity.
I wonder how he convinced her.
I suspect that if he looked at her then the way he looks at her now, it probably helped at least a little.
Maybe he just went for it. Love is a ballsy motherfucker.
Maybe he told her that he was sure enough for both of them.
Maybe he told her that he wanted to spend the rest of his life proving that choosing him was the best decision she would ever make.
And maybe he didn’t have to do much.
Maybe she quickly realized that this guy would take a bullet to keep her from a moment of pain.
Maybe she felt it in squeezing hugs and gentle caresses.
She eventually came around. For a moment, I let myself imagine that she hadn’t. Even the idea of a wasted shot at big love makes my stomach hurt.
I was thankfully interrupted when someone else said what we were all thinking, that they are such a great couple.
The smile they shared in reply made me happy for, and jealous of, them in equal measure.
The best ones can always do that.
He seems strong, with a soft touch. She seems like she’ll always speak up for herself, but with carefully selected words.
He still seeks her opinion on things. She still says “please” when she asks him for something. I find it reassuring to see that, for some couples, the niceties aren’t stripped away by the passage of time.
I think he still holds her heart gently, but securely, with both hands.
I think she still appreciates every single little thing he does for her.
I’m sure that they have their fights, but I bet that they never let themselves lose sight of the big picture.
That love is rare. That love is amazing.
That love is theirs.