When did you know your spouse was 'The One?'

We smoked a fattie together in a graveyard after a party.
I haven't looked back since.

 

We met at a newspaper job and began hanging out as friends in a group. One night another friend bailed on a movie and we decided to go any way just the two of us. We were walking to the theatre and I noticed her shoe had become untied. Without asking I bent down and tied it. Looking back that was the moment I knew I was toast.
She quickly became my best friend. She's the kind of person that everyone who meets her wants to be her friend.
One night we went for a walk and walked and talked until the sun came up. I had never had a relationship with a woman before that felt that natural. I could say absolutely anything to her and quite often I say ridiculous things.
She told me soon thereafter that I was supposed to be her rebound guy.
Less than a year later we moved in together and I told her occasionally that I would marry her when she told me she was ready
I waited five years until she began to hint that it would be OK. We had since moved away from that city and were at a family reunion four hours away. I drove back to the same streets we walked and talked when we first were together and dropped down on one knee and popped the question.
Our 10th anniversary is this spring.
I often thank her for marrying me.
Upon hearing news of couples splitting we always get the other to promise that they will never leave.
It's an easy promise for me to make.

 

When she asked me to inspect the back door.

 

It was a good door.

 

But it hadn't been inspected in quite some time.

 

The bell rang. I was late to class. I was always late to class. Welcome to high school in the mid-90s. We are all Zach Morris.

But this is Day One for me. They said this would be different. My brothers, that is. I had grown about three inches. I was taller, too. I wore my blue jeans lower, my polos untucked. Listened to Weezer. Everyone listened to Weezer. New Kids on the Block is so middle school.

I threw some books into my locker and my Jansport over my left shoulder. Slipped in before the teacher looked up. Homeroom 314. There she was.

I don't know if it was the earrings or the breasts. It was probably the breasts. She might not have been wearing earrings. My erection hit my zipper. I had made the switch to button-fly boxers over the summer. Straightened things out. Looked up. She was still there.

It was innocent. We'd talk, mostly her. She'd smile at me. As if I were the only one in the room. You know how these things go. I'd return home, slam my door, masturbate furiously to her photo in the previous yearbook. She had soft skin. You could just tell. Her hands were small, so I'd use just my fingertips to mimic the feeling I thought I knew.

It rained a lot that fall. Always does in Seattle. I flew through my classes. I knew she was impressed. She said so. She'd draw smiling faces for me.

Winter came. We talked. I was 14 now. I was a man, and my brothers egged me on. They'd catch me writing her name on assignments I was supposed to hand in. I joined the same clubs she was in. I once smelled her hair. I bought that shampoo. I masturbated furiously to its smell.

Spring came. And I came. We came. Not her at first. She didn't complain. I was new to this. She showed me the ropes. She told me I was special. I kept it from my parents. I kept it from my friends. I kept it from my brothers. We kept it.

Our daughter was born. I'd be lying to say I was ready for it. But she told me it would be OK. It wasn't. We broke up for a few years. Not really. We'd send letters. We knew we would end up together.

We're married now. Had a big wedding almost 10 years after we met. Paid for. We're happy. We always knew.

Sincerely,

Vili Fualaau

 

Awesome.

 

When I had her at "hello".

 

I could feel her tremble when we touched. It was like the hand of fate reaching out to both of us.

Now I can't hold back because I'm on the edge. And I won't back down. It's too late to turn back now.

 

It came at a tremendous time in my life. I was at the apex of a very successful career. Nobody was better in my field than I, and everyone that worked with me was aware of this. After a magical night together, we decided to go get breakfast. She was gorgeous – blond hair, blue eyes, European model good looks. I was gently squeezing her hand as she gazed at me from across the booth.

Then, swoosh, it hit me like a ton of bricks. “Welcome to Perkins, are y’all ready to order or should I give y'a couple more minutes.” That crooked smile, the come-hither gleam in her eyes, the twang in her voice. At that moment I knew she was mine. There’s a certain tension in the air, a particular scent when they want you. It’s a feeling I know all too well, and when it hits you’ve got to be ready to strike swiftly. Five minutes later, I was nailing her against the wall in the storage closet. It was at that moment that I knew I was The One.

Wait, what was the question?

 

I was looking on Google Earth when I saw her in a front yard, so I noted her address. I knew she looked great, so I figured I would tell her it was clear she was smart enough to figure out coded messages on Facebook. I picked out which of the five different wallets with five different IDs and prepaid credit cards was the right one for the job. Then I looked her up on the 20 personal information aggregators I subscribed to, all paid for by my Caymans banking account, so I could lead the conversation. I then ran my game theory program hacked from the Pentagon to figure out what reason for coming to her door would be most plausible. Then when my wife bought it when I told her I had a long night of work at the office, I knew I had tracked down The One.

 

I'd been alone with her inside my mind. And in my dreams, I'd kissed her lips a thousand times. I sometimes saw her pass outside my door. She didn't see me though. She was blind. Which was AWESOME b/c it allowed me to stalk her as her drama teacher at a community college.

I could see it in her eyes (even though she couldn't). I could see it in her smile (even though she couldn't). She was all I ever wanted and my arms were open wide (even though she couldn't see them).

She knew just what to say. She knew just what to do. Which was pretty impressive, b/c like I said, she was blind. And I wanted to tell her so much "I love you."

So I got that aforementioned job, which meant I no longer had to long to see the sunlight in her hair, b/c I could just walk up behind her as she had lunch in the quad and leer at her. I wanted to tell her time and time again how much I cared, but hitting on the blind chick was a surefire way to get shitcanned. So I just sat there, feeling as if my heart would overflow.

Finally I said fuck it, I've just got to let you know. I was tired of wondering where she was and wondering what she did, of wondering if she was somewhere feeling lonely or if someone was loving her. I had to tell her: Tell me how to win your heart, for I haven't got a clue. But let me start by saying "I love you." With a creepy-ass phone call in the middle of the night in which I blurt out "Hello! Is it me you're looking for?"

Things went well for a day or two, until she showed me the mold she'd made of my head in her pottery class. It looked nothing like me. I looked like Rerun from What's Happening. I know she's blind but c'mon. I was the fucking lead singer of The Commodores. It wasn't that difficult to find a good approximation of my jericurls. So we broke up and now I'm nailing a ballerina girl.