My favorite love stories have always been the kind that feel familiar, yet devastatingly unfamiliar. I don’t know how to explain them other than that, but I also recognize that the previous sentence leaves much to be desired in the way of details. Basically, I’ve always been intrigued by stories that seem to capture realistic beauty in relationships. So while Cinderella was a favorite of mine as a kid, now the story seems a bit far fetched and unrealistic. I mean, come on…she loses her shoe at a palace and then she’s royalty for life? BOGUS.
I always felt more compelled to believe war stories were more beautiful. You know the one: two people fall in love, get the news that the guy has to go off to war, they write love letters to each other for a year, then sometimes he comes home alive and all is well. Or he comes home in a casket and is mourned forever by the poor girl he left behind. At least with these stories you felt the pull of time and of tragedy…Cinderella was just too pretty, tied up in a bow with her perfect happy ending. I guess I always recognized life normally offered up more tragedy than happy endings when it came to love. Even the perfect couple – the happiest of marriages – has to end. Which is tragic when you think about it.
These past 10 months have totally challenged my notion of loving and being loved. These past 10 months have pushed and pulled me in all the best ways, and today as I drove home from a bad day at work, feeling bloated and fat and ugly, looking out the car window at another sunny spring day outside my window, I realized that I had been scared to share my own experiences with love. Basically, I feel like no words could ever do these past 10 months justice, and I also recognize that the amount of huge life changes I’ve experienced in such a short amount of time might seem drastic and shocking to the casual reader/outsider.
How do you put words to a real-life fairy tale you never saw coming?
As usual, the only way I can ever adequately express my current feelings are through hindsight reflection. Believe me when I say I had too much material to cover in one blog post, but I’m 100% sure you’ll hear way more about Nicholas in the months and years to come.
December 26th, 2018
6 months after meeting Nick.
4 months after leaving the country with Peace Corps for a 2 year commitment.
4 months after Nick asking me to be his “official” girlfriend.
It was really dark, and though I hadn’t slept much at all, I felt a crazy adrenaline rush as I threw the covers back. “Nick! Wake up. We are buying a HOUSE today!” I received a mumble in response, as usual. He sat up relatively quickly, and gave me a sleepy smile.
“Let’s go buy our house!”
November 14th, 2018
When I walked in our future house, the first thing I noticed was the golden light in the main entrance. The second thing I noticed was how worn the floors looked. They were floors of a well loved home, and I imagined all the shoes and boxes and furniture that travelled those worn floors before I had stepped on them.
The third thing I noticed was how excited Nick was, and it was really cute. He was trying to be calm, but he gets this look in his eyes when he’s excited about something, and his masculine beard and steady jaw line can’t quite hide it. Of course, I knew he loved the house already because we had already called 3 banks about Mortgages -something he and I had literally zero experience in – before even seeing the house in person.
Our realtor was a free-spirit named Mary, who greeted us back in October in Halloween leggings. Her smile was warm, and her knowledge of real estate was exactly what we needed. She helped us by patiently educating us on a process that seemed so intimidating, and she never made us feel stupid.
As she walked through the living room of our future home, she commented on the charm of the built in bookcases. Little did she know: I had already picked out a color scheme for each row. She kept telling us that the price was a good deal for such an updated kitchen and “just look at that sink!” (A copper farm house sink that really has gotten a compliment from every person who steps into our house).
I remember I broke away from Nick and Mary for a second, and wandered into the library they had set up. There was a piano and so many books. I looked around and imagined a nice, cozy sitting room where Nick and I could catch up after a long day at work. Or maybe it would be a play room for kids eventually. Or maybe it would be the computer room. Or maybe it could be a mud room if we ever added on a garage. The point is, I saw so much potential while I stood there staring at the bookshelves. Not just in the house, either, but in Nick and I as well.
The future was ours for the taking.
I rushed back into the dining room with a look of what I imagine was fiery resolve: “Mary, what do we need to offer to get this house?”
And the rest, as they say, is history.
January 27th, 2019
Fast forward almost exactly one month from the day we signed for our house.
We had been painting for what feels like years. What started out as a home that was “move in ready” actually turned out to be a little too loved for our taste. We wanted a blank slate, and so we dove head first into paint can after paint can. Our floors were going to be redone, so luckily we were free to pretty much paint at will. That didn’t really prevent the long days and nights busting our tails to get the place “as good as new” “as fast as humanly possible.”
[Luckily, my family and Nick’s mom (OMG my future mother-in-law is the best, y’all) really came through. They helped us paint almost every day during the break between Christmas and New Year’s Eve. They dealt with our commands and emotionally delirious requests, and didn’t expect anything in return. We literally would still not be moved in if it weren’t for them].
Nick and I were slowly and steadily “nesting,” and we spent the previous day getting some furniture at Ikea on a super spontaneous trip to Charlotte. It was a really good trip, and Brooke (Nick’s sister) goes to school in Charlotte. We got to treat her to some Cheesecake factory and catch up, and then we headed back to Pulaski. On the way home, I could tell something was on Nick’s mind, and so I checked in. After promising everything was fine, I finally relaxed a little back into my seat.
The truth of the matter was that there was always this small part of my brain, controlled by my anxiety, that worried he was going to decide this wasn’t what he wanted after all. Maybe he would begin to believe that we jumped too quickly into our life together? Maybe he hated that I wanted to buy those bookshelves in Ikea? Maybe I said something earlier that annoyed him? Was I obnoxious at the restaurant? Maybe I shouldn’t have even asked if he was okay? Maybe…? Maybe…?
And basically that’s what it’s like in my head.
Imagine my surprise when I saw Nick on one knee the following evening, trembling and saying words I honestly don’t quite remember while I said “What are you doing? Oh my GOD what are you doing?” over and over again like a parrot.
I cried. He didn’t cry, but he smiled a whole lot and his cheeks got really red (a tell-tale sign he’s happy and nervous). Then I called and texted…well… all of my people, and sent a picture of the gorgeous ring he picked out. The reactions? Pretty much all the same: teetering between “beyond happy” for us and a surprised “that was quick.”
They were right, of course. Most people don’t get engaged after only 7 months of knowing the other person existed. Nick and I aren’t most people, though, and I think that’s the boldest thing I’ve learned about love throughout this whole 10 month journey: love looks vastly different as it weaves it’s magical threads around each individual person and each couple. As the cliché goes, “when you know, you know!”
Today, April 2nd, 2019
10 (ish) months since Nick and I met, and his brother predicted he and I would get married (before we even met, no less…I have a screenshot of a text message to prove it).
7 (ish) months since I returned home from a failed tour with Peace Corps to attend the funeral of my grandmother.
5 (ish) months since I first walked through the doorframe that would house my future with Nicholas.
2 (ish) months since I became a fiancé.
How do you put words to a real-life fairy tale you never saw coming?
Nothing I’ve written even comes close to expressing just how beautiful all those numbers above have been for me. Though loving someone as deeply as I love Nick comes with its challenges and frustrations, I wouldn’t trade this new chapter we are writing for any amount of money. I can’t imagine just how patient Nick has had to be with me – his independent, free-spirited, anxious, left-wing, opinionated, overly-emotional, friend-collecting, cat-loving fiancé. As we navigate these uncharted waters, I really find so much joy in the fact that I’ve found my soul’s match, who is unafraid of my past, excitedly holding my hand in the present, and dreaming about our future.
I wish I could tell that 6 year-old-me that Cinderella isn’t all that, and that high heels are overrated. I wish I could tell that 18 year-old-me that love doesn’t have to look like a tragic Nicholas Sparks novel. I wish I could tell that 21 year-old-me that love doesn’t have to be selfish, toxic, and damning. I wish I could tell that 24 year-old-me that love doesn’t require a passport and an escape plan. Love finds each of us exactly where we have always been destined to meet it – even in a dirt track concession stand.
-Halie
haliewanders 