I thought my audience might enjoy a throw back post, if you will. A "get to know" read. Sit back and I'm going to share with you the intricate interworkings of all that mushy love stuff.
Ryan. Perhaps we should call him Big Friendly Giant - or as the movie says...BFG? Ryan came to me when I was 17, a college freshman, spending my days studying and selling the groceries to the hungry masses. Not long after I met this bag boy, I moved up to the east side, being promoted to the service desk, where I could better utilize my social skills and keep all those hungry people happy. I honestly do not remember much about those first months, but these are the two impressions I do remember: 1) Most importantly, this boy is a gigantic man-child. An extremely skinny, all legs, super sweet, ultra baby faced, boy. He did not look old enough to work legally. 2) When I would look out the office door and down the cashier line, Ryan would be bent over double grabbing the necessary coins for his customers, because the register drawer popped out at his knees. Truly. I can't make this stuff up.
Soon, he moved into my territory and I moved up to the cash office, virtually becoming his boss. Sorta. Literally. Whatever. We worked a lot of hours together, this man-child and me. I schooled him in the ways of getting those peeps their Pick 3 numbers before the cutoff time. I showed him how to sort and count cash like a drug lord. I was fast. But things at the office did not always go smoothly and, Ryan, that boy, he was very smart. Unbeknownst to me, because I'm pretty oblivious to this type of thing, Ryan had set his heart on pursuing me. He wooed me, Friends, with the hot mustard. McDonalds will rule forever because of hot mustard sauce. I don't care what you say. I had to yell at a few of these NY branches for discontinuing it..(Are you kidding me?! Its your business' only saving grace) Oh. It's back now...fyi. I digress. He brought me the nuggets and the hot mustard sauce at 2100 when I was so busy I couldn't take lunch..(this is a trend in my life). Little by little he worked his way into my heart, becoming my friend.
And such a good friend he was. Our relationship was always completely amiable. We never ran out of things to talk about. But. Let's be honest. That's probably because of me. He eventually went off to some military obligations and then moved south for college. Because I did not seem to return his deeper affection, he pursued other relationships and we didn't speak for a few months. I was on my way to give him what for on 9/11, but never made it. When I did make it, a few weeks later, I looked into the blue eyes of my best friend, and gave my heart away.
This October we will celebrate 12 years of marriage. We live everywhere. We're raising some crazies. We're doing life. He still brings me food to combat the hangries. I cannot hide ANYTHING from this man. And it's amazing. And frustrating. He gets me better than anyone. Anyone. And he still loves me. That is a gift; one not to ever be taken lightly.
I don't have the recipe for marital happiness. But I can tell you that love born from deep friendship is the best kind. When you take away the love drama, (there is always love drama), you are left with your best buddy who knows you need a case of 5th Avenue bars and a game of Scrabble to survive.
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