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| *photo credit to t4n14_phei at flickr |
Seven years ago today, I married my own Prince Charming. Not a day goes by that I don’t thank God for bringing him into my life. Without this man I would be completely incomplete.
What makes him my Prince Charming, you ask? After all, he has no white horse and no crown. He is tall, dark, and handsome. But he’ll end up on the cover of GQ around the time I am featured in Vogue. A friend once told me she was so enthralled with his southern accent that she could listen to him read the phone book for hours on end. But to me, he just sounds like my hubster. Of course, that means his voice can make me melt like butter….
Ahem.
What were we talking about?
Oh, yes. What makes the hubster my Prince Charming. Or, for you Twilight fans, “my own brand of heroin.”
In no particular order:
- He’s unfailingly kind.
- He loves my dog. So much that I question whether I can still call the dog my dog.
- Despite a lifelong hatred of fresh tomatoes, he takes to his vegetable garden each summer and grows plump, juicy tomatoes, because he knows they make me happy.
- He puts up with my not-so-chipper morning self, lovingly rousing me from slumber each morning (while dodging my right hook), and then makes me coffee.
- He loves me. (And yes, after seven years of marriage, and about nine years together total, I still marvel at this. Of all the women in the world, he chose me. He loves me.)
- He loves my family, and goes above and beyond to help them whenever he can. He sat with my sister at the closing when she bought her first house. He spends time on the phone with my mother whenever she needs help.
- He’s a fantastic father. He dotes on our children, but doesn’t spoil them. They, in turn, absolutely adore him.
- The hubster is probably the most even-keeled person I’ve ever met. And if you read this blog regularly, you’ll know that I am not. He puts up with my ups and downs, and we balance each other out.
- He loves me. And he expresses it in everything he does.
- He’s brilliant, and I love nothing more than a discussion or debate with him over the latest news with a cup of coffee. It’s like living with a professor. I could plumb the depths of his brain ten times over and still find new things to learn.
- He’s fiercely loyal and honorable. Sometimes I wonder if he was born in the wrong historical era.
- He makes me want to be a better person.
- Through him I have come to know God.
- I have found more peace through the knowledge that he bears an unconditional love for me than I ever would have imagined.
- And did I mention he loves me?
Now, before the sugary sweetness of all this has you getting sick everywhere, let me add:
The hubster is not without flaws. He drives me crazy with his passion (obsession?) for Clemson football and penchant for traffic-cone orange polo shirts. We quibble over how the dishwasher should be loaded and what should be served for dinner. He is possessed of that uniquely male capacity to attend an entire dinner party full of juicy gossip and report back to me that everything and everyone was simply “fine” and that they talked about “the usual stuff.” He has been known to leave the toilet seat up, and he does not receive subliminal messages well (at least during football season).
To sum up: the hubster is fabulosity personified. But he’s not perfect. And neither am I. We’ve approached our marriage with intention, and this is the most important thing we’ve learned:
Love is a verb. It’s not a mere adjective to describe your stomach dropping lust-drenched first days or months together. Love is a decision, a choice you make every day. Actually, it’s more like a thousand choices you make every day. Choices to put your partner ahead of yourself. Choices to care for his needs before your own. Choices to give instead of take. Choices that add up to this nebulous thing we call love.
I hate hearing people talk about how serious relationships or marriages have crashed and burned because they “just fell out of love.” In the beginning stages of a relationship, love is a thrilling thing, a feeling not unlike plummeting down the first hill of the latest roller coaster. And when that feeling changes and goes away, there is definite temptation to throw out the relationship and assume it has run its course.
Yes, after a few years, love does feel different. It matures. It feels safe. Secure. Solid. One day you realize that you no longer know where Husband ends and Wife begins, and that’s how it should be when all is right with the world.
Since I know a lot of you gals out there are on the hunt for your very own Prince (Charming or otherwise), I thought I’d take the occasion of my anniversary to dole out some unsolicited advice.
Here it is, straight up: Edward Cullen is fictional. So are Mark Darcy, Romeo, Jack Dawson, Jacob Black, Harry Potter, Cedric Diggory, Mr. Big, and most knights ever to ride on white horses. Pop culture’s reality shows, chick lit, and maybe even your own friends are feeding you a steady diet of malarky about the kind of perfection for which you should be holding out, and as a result, a lot of you are watching birthday after birthday tick by while your ring finger remains bare and naked.
The truth? The perfect man does not exist. But your Prince Charming almost certainly does.
I am not suggesting that anyone settle and get married just to get married. But stop looking for perfection, because while you’re busy rating men on your particular scale, or playing by The Rules, or using tips from the latest issue of Cosmo or Glamour, you’re missing a whole bunch of really good guys right in front of you. Sure, they have flaws. But so do you.
Learn to love someone as a whole. For their flaws, not in spite of them. Learn to see past what you’ve been told to want, and look for what you need.
And to my dear sweet other half, a very happy anniversary. You are everything I could possibly want or need, and I love you.
