Elspeth over at http://lovingintheruins.wordpress.com/ was asking me to corral up my thoughts about the types of wives and make it into a post, and then she was talking about the types of husbands. I solicit your thoughts on the types of wives before I gel that post together, but I can talk about my husband a bit.
I have a degree in Women's Studies, and therefore can say categorically that what follows will *not* be politically correct. You have been warned.
My husband and I met... well. I suppose we set eyes on one another sometime in grade school, since we went to the same church, same Sunday School. We were even in the same Christmas play in 5th grade. We didn't move in the same circles, and though I have a few memories of him here and there, we didn't "meet".
The first time I can remember him speaking to me was in junior high, age 11. I was just starting to get curves and had put on my very first blouse for a grown person. TERMINAL embarrassment, of course - I spent the entire day with my shawl wrapped firmly around my body. He walked up to me, smiled, and got me to show him my shirt. He complimented me, and walked off. -jawdrop-
The next time I spoke to DH, it was Halloween. We were 13. He was taking one of his younger friends trick or treating, and for some reason they'd come over to my neighborhood rather than his (it's a 10 minute drive). I was giving out candy... he smiled, said hi, said he might be back... the porchlight stayed on for a long time that night... -jawdrop-
The next time I spoke to DH, he called out a compliment to me as I was passing by one winter's morning in high school. I couldn't see him properly, due to some issues with my contacts, or the lack thereof. No one else (other than family) told me I was pretty.... ever... -jawdrop-
Being the age that I was, I didn't really put any of these things together. In hind sight, it seems like God kept throwing us together until we stuck... it took until the second semester of our freshman year, when we ended up in the same Contemporary Living (aka sex ed and how to fill out forms) class for us to meet. And it took a while before I paid attention to him. I mean, you're 6' tall, have a mustache, and you're confident... SURELY you are not a freshman! Therefore I thought he had to be the dumbest senior *ever*, since our class was a mandatory freshman class. You'd have to be asleep to fail it.
Oh. Not a senior? And interested in me? No way.
It took my husband six months of compliments to convince me that it was not going to scar the eyes of America if I wore something less covered than a turtleneck and calf-length full skirt.
By the time sophomore year rolled around, I would have done *anything* for him. Dance on sharp glass? Not a problem! I wanted to be *his*. (I used to make him really mad by writing "property of ..." on my wrist with his name in a little box in ball point pen).
I wanted to be loved, and I wanted to give my whole self (not ...ahem... in the Biblical fashion, but in the truest sense of the word - my whole self, my heart, my soul, every bit of me) to him. If I could have rubbed my scent on his forehead to keep off the other women, to claim him - I would have done so. Primal doesn't *touch* how I felt about him. I guess teenagers aren't shy about admitting their less PC cravings.
Of course, timing being what it is... just before our sophomore year was up, his father died. This was rather a damper to our romance (as his dying had been). I've put that ... badly... but... well. I was 15. I didn't understand, and he was a 15yo boy. He didn't communicate. He disappeared. He reappeared, sober and withdrawn, at the beginning of the next school year.
Bereft of his attention, bereft of my best friends (all of whom had moved that year, thank you to the daddys' 20 years in the Corps), I hung around him and his group of friends anyway. Followed him like a very annoying puppy.
Much soap opera that no one cares about that year. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned - you should see what a teenager will come up with!
Eventually he looked me in the eye and called me back to his side. I was at his feet in a second. If he'd have let me kneel, I assure you that I would have done so. Yet more soap opera, ah dear high school. (If you have teenagers, imagine yourself in love with your spouse at 16/17 and ... well, try not to rock and whimper too loudly, it disturbs the pets).
My heart has ever been his on a plate. All I've ever wanted was to please him. To be enjoyed, to be loved, to be appreciated. To be owned, to belong.
Now, practically speaking, I wanted a man who was strong enough to stand up to the tides of crazy that I put forth. I am extremely intelligent, quite emotional, and I enthuse. I didn't want to run some man's life for him. I wanted someone strong enough to let me be all of what I am - and not change who *he* is. I wanted to be cherished for myself. I hate being micromanaged, give me a task and go away. I like being protected, and my small self finds herself quite nervous around not-protective men.
But really, ultimately... I think God made me particularly for the man that I married, and I think He just kept throwing us together until we got the idea. Took us a while... we could have easily been married on my 18th birthday. We didn't get married until the summer a year after I graduated from college. We were silly, silly rabbits. So much wasted time!!!!
I love my husband with all of my heart, and I cannot imagine life without him. He is mine, he is part of me. I am his, and I am part of him. We've let some insane stuff come into our lives, and we've survived all of it. (Thank you, Lord!!) We're more part of each other than the first day we met, more in love than the day we said our vows.
And I don't think there was more than a paragraph of this that was relevant....... :D I'll have to edit, if I'm going to write that wifey post.