The Story of Us: Part Three. Merging = Being Nice To People You Don't Know

So sorry for not updating this in so long. We had an internet service outage. It was NOT Comcastic! Our cable was fine, but our internet was out because "the signal was coming into the house too strong". Tell me if that doesn't sound like a load of hot, steaming BS. Ugh. Anyway, back to our story.

It was November of 2004. November 9th, actually. (I also remember what I was wearing, but that is immaterial to the story). The Bridge, Jason, has decided that he can't live if livin' is without me. He weeps over losing me. I feel nothing. I didn't fall madly in love with him and want to spend the rest of my life with him because A) he wasn't the One for me and B) that's why I was with him in the first place, because I knew he would never want to be married or have kids, so he was a safe choice to go out with. Love was off the table, or so I thought.

I had finally decided that I had enough of feeling alone, enough of feeling like I'm still one half of a whole, and decided I'd go put myself out there and see what I could find. What I found first was Mike. Mike wasn't really that great looking but he had a good smile and seemed charming at first. Then we sat down, I ordered a drink and asked him if he wanted anything (because I was all into being in charge at the moment - this pays off for me later in the story) and he said, "No, I can't drink as part of my probation I just got out of jail for child molestation." And then he died laughing, like that was the BEST LINE EVER. I looked up at the waitress and said, I don't think I'll need that drink after all. I stood up and said, "I'm an adult survivor of childhood sexual abuse and I don't find joking about it funny AT ALL" and walked out, with my head held high, my amazing tits leading the way out (in a very cute and well cut top) and my ass jiggling just enough to make it hurt him. Fricking idiot. (Please note: the post-baby body bears small resemblance to the 11/09/04 body).

Then I went to The Ram. I found a cute boy there with blond highlights, blue eyes (I am such a sucker for bright blue eyes!), perfect teeth, and the perfect height for me. Yummy.

This is a good time to explain my 6-6-6 Theory of Husband Finding. The minimum requirements for my match had been reduced to this: 6 feet, 6 inches, 6 figures. Yes, that is horribly vain, shallow and materialistic but by this time in life I was 30. The Lady knows what she needs and wants. I knew what would keep me physically attracted and financially secure. A younger and stupider, more naive version of me had married for love before. It worked out poorly. If I was ever going to do it again, it would be for love with someone I knew would provide for all my needs in every way.

So I walk up to Yummy Boy, and say "I want a Sapphire and Tonic, and I think you should buy it for me." He says okay, and gets me a drink. Because he's naturally mellow and easy going, and seriously I am rocking the hell out of my cleavage tonight.

And drinks turned into appetizers, and appetizers turned into dinner, and dinner turned into dessert, and dessert turned into after dinner cocktails until basically they kicked us out. And while we sat there, we talked about everything. My work, his work (IT consultant, working on an SAP R3 conversion - salary minimum met!), our volunteer work, religion, our divorces, family, our desire for a family, adoption, foster parenting, pets, politics, sports (I'm the sports fan, he didn't know what a field goal was), cars, fashion (he has a strong love for all things Versace), plastic surgery (we've both been under the knife), just...everything. And as I sat there, I kept thinking over and over, "this guy is such a great match for me!". I mean, in every way he totally is. I probably could have been persuaded to bend the rules on one or two of the 6's. Thankfully, I didn't have to.

He walked me out to my car, gave me a hug and then a sweet small kiss goodnight. I called my best friend and told her I was going to get married again. Just as too many people had advised me in the past: when you meet The Right One, you just know. I just knew. I didn't feel like I was just one half of a whole anymore. I had found that other half - the one whom as Jerry McGuire put it, "completes me".

The next week, he asked me out to dinner Friday night. I picked a Japanese teppanyaki place. We had blue Hawaiians and steak and shrimp, then went back to his place to watch a movie. Before too long, it was nearly midnight and I had to get back to my place. I had the cable guy coming out between 8 am and 1 pm (so specific!) but in the event he showed up at 8 am, I wanted to be awake for it. Before I headed home, he asked me if he could take me to the movies the next day, after the cable guy was done. I told him I'd check my schedule and let him know (still trying to maintain an aura of cool and not act too eager).

We saw the Incredibles on Saturday afternoon, and after the movie we went back to his place to figure out dinner. We wanted to stay in, but it was obvious that there hadn't been a trip to the grocery store in a while. This was when I slipped into Kitchen MacGyver mode and made a garlic cream sauce with veggies over pasta. I found a bottle of wine and voila, it was dinner. Tim was amazed. He didn't want me to leave, but night fell and I departed after dinner.

The following Monday, the conversion project at work that he had been prepping for kicked off. He began working literally around the clock. He'd leave for work at 7 am and get home around midnight, nap for a couple of hours and then leave to do it all over again, 7 days a week. He missed me, so he gave me a key to his apartment and asked me to stay there a few nights a week, so he could at least see me and talk to me for a little while, half asleep, before he passed out of exhaustion. I missed him too, and I knew that this crazy period was part of the conversion when he said he was going to do it, so I obliged.

Thanksgiving came. We went together to the Lincoln Park Community Shelter to prepare turkey dinner for 50 homeless people. It was a really beautiful experience, and we did it for two years as a part of Singles Social and Service Chicago. Then we weren't single anymore, we got pregnant, and now we're forging some new family traditions together. Anyway, back to the shelter. We were working on some twice baked potatoes and talking about the ravages of cancer treatment. I said, "If I lost all my hair, would you still love me?" And he said, "Of course." And I said, "A-HA! You DO love me!" And he was all ashamed and blushing and said I tricked him. Ha ha.

Christmas came. Tim is from Maryland, and he has no family in Illinois. He moved here for his college sweetheart who is now his ex-wife. The tradition in my family is that we gather on Christmas Eve, have a fabulous feast together, then wait until midnight and open our gifts in one massive, wild frenzy of flying paper and ribbons. My cousin Tracy usually hosts, and I called her to ask if I could bring my new boyfriend. I told her he was really special and I thought he was The One. She was all excited to meet him, so I brought him with. All of my cousins had bought him gifts so he could have something to open during our gift exchange, and Tracy even made him a stocking to hang with the rest of ours. It was so sweet how my family loved and accepted him without even meeting him. They really made Tim feel like part of the family right from the beginning. My cousins are awesome women.

That night, we got back to Tim's apartment and unloaded our loot. At that point, we were technically not yet living together. I still had my apartment, but nobody slept there, including my two cats. We just hadn't yet made that leap yet, although I was ready to. I didn't pressure Tim, because it was nice to know I still had my space if things went awry.

We sat on his living room floor, noshing on Christmas cookies and talking about how wonderful our first Christmas together had been, when he asked me to move in. He said he was certain that we were supposed to be together and he wanted to build a future with me and be with me and I'm already there anyways, so let's move my stuff out of my apartment and get my mail forwarded. After he became a part of my extended family that night, he didn't want to leave and he didn't want me to leave his house either.

I moved out of my apartment at New Years. It was a good thing too, because by the end of January my position had been eliminated and I lost my job - I wouldn't have been able to afford my own rent on unemployment anyway!

We co-habitated from that point on. On October 3, 2005, we had just returned home from picking up burritos from our favorite tacqueria when in the kitchen, Tim asked me if I would share burritos with him forever and he presented me with my super awesome beautiful 2.5 ct 3 stone engagement ring. Of course I said yes, and we've been sharing burritos ever since.

And that is how one year, one month and one day after we first met, we got married, barefoot on the beach of St. Thomas on December 10, 2005. One thing we both wanted more than anything was to start a family - which we had discussed at our very first date - and once we were married, we started trying. On February 13, 2006 (the day before Valentine's Day), we found out we were pregnant.

Jackson Phoenix was born September 28th, nine months and three weeks after our wedding. And just like that, in the wink of an eye, everything I have ever wanted for my life came to be.

And that, my friends, is the Story of Us.