When I signed up for Tinder and jumped feet first into the dating pool last spring, I wasn’t really hoping for much more than a rebound fling or two. The wounds from ending my 14 year relationship with my husband were still smarting. I wasn’t sure that I wanted to have actual feelings for another human being, but spending time with them on occasion sounded nice. I made sure to prominently feature ethical non-monogamy on my profile, because I had no intentions of involving myself in any form of monogamy.
I’m pretty proud of myself. I went on several dates. I built up my confidence a bit, I had a little fun, and learned a thing or two in the process. And I focused on healing my grinchy little heart, and parenting my awesome littles.
Then I met a guy.
This guy. The first time I saw his profile, I knew that he was special, and that definitely I wanted to know him. Not in a fatal attraction, stalk-him-and-wear-his-face sort of way. More like, my gut told me he was worth getting to know. If you know me, then you should know that my gut is always freaking right. So, I decided to practice what I had previously preached, and I did the thing that scared me.
I swiped right on his dazzling smile and that is when the magic happened.
This lovely, slow blooming relationship started to unfurl. It turns out my guy is amazing. He is charming and quirky. And he also has a face that belongs in a Hallmark Christmas movie, and can rock a flannel like nobody’s business. He has full respect for my autonomy and is on board with having an open relationship, and all of the work that goes into making that a positive experience for everyone involved.
He really sees me. And he knows I’m a slob. He knows that I’m a constant ball of anxiety. He’s witnessed my night terrors and panic attacks. He has witnessed, first hand, my Gordon Bombay cosplay. He has seen my Nicolas Cage Pinterest board. And he knows that I like to wear hats because I hate my giant forehead. He understands why I feel necrophilia is a victimless crime. Shockingly, none of these things have scared him away. In a weird way, I think he might find a few of them endearing.
Most importantly, he understands how to move slowly, and enjoy the journey. This was, and still is insanely appealing to me. It was nice to meet him on our first date and not feel a million and one subliminal expectations radiating off of him. Our connection was pretty instant and so blissfully easy. Due to Covid, our dating options were for the most part limited to his place or mine. We made the best of it with a good internet connection and terrible game shows on Netflix. We spent a ridiculous amount of time laughing together at stupid comedies. Getting to know each other, little by little, in between weird YouTube videos.
I knew I could fall in love with him the first time he opened up and got really raw with me.
What he said isn’t important for the context of this piece, it’s the fact that he was comfortable enough with me to say it after only knowing each other for a couple of months. Also the fact that he could voice something so personal and profound at all, was refreshing.
That’s how it happened, I suppose. Not all at once, like in dumb movies. It was hundreds of little moments. Like having our minds blown when we realized our step-dads were best friends for decades, and we had likely met as children; or making out on my front porch at 3 AM like horny teenagers who can’t keep their hands off of each other. We mesh well together. It was easy to let my guard down, and show him the pieces of me that I often keep hidden. By the time I realized that love was the direction we were headed, it was too late. It had already happened. I was smitten. I was so focused on not overthinking things, that I really was just enjoying the moments as they happened. Not speculating what they may or may not mean for the future.
How did I know that it was love?
I was super slow on the uptake with this. I literally had no idea that he was going gooey on me, using his voodoo powers to make me gooey too; that is until the first time he offered me a key to his place.
Yes. I’m a dork. I put this poor man through the ringer and made him offer the key twice. But I was half asleep and groggy. I had stayed over, and he was heading out to work. He offered to let me stay and use the spare key to lock up. I panicked because nobody had ever offered me a key before, and any time unexpected intimacy occurs it’s my body’s natural response to panic. So I immediately was like, nah. I gotta go anyway, and high-tailed it out of there.
Then a few days later he made it a point to give me the key when I was actually awake, and couldn’t easily escape. When I hugged him after he handed it over, it surprised me how happy I was, and how good it all felt. I started realizing how much I missed him when he wasn’t around. I couldn’t watch funny things anymore without wanting to look over and see his reaction. If I saw a great meme, he was the one I wanted to share it with. Somehow, he had become my person. Son of a bitch. I love him hard.
I’m not an overly sappy person.
Showing these softer emotions can be a real challenge for me but loving him makes me want to try. I realize that sharing that side of myself is a way that he seems to enjoy receiving love, and I really want him to feel loved. He is my safe place. His presence is calming, and reassuring. My brain actually rests a little when I’m around him. When I wake up from nightmares to him telling me it’s okay, I actually believe him.
I made a comment once about our relationship being so easy, and he quipped back, “when it’s right, it’s right.” Such a simple statement, but it’s so true! It doesn’t matter how hard you try, you just can’t force this kind of thing. This type of love is a privilege, and I feel honored every day to be a participant.
What about you? Are you in love? How did you know it was right? I’d love to hear your stories in the comments.
