I can, without a doubt, claim that I have never been a girlie girl, or a girl who loves love. Sure, I’ve had disappointments that teetered on heartbreak – and yes, to a degree I think I’ve put myself out there and made myself vulnerable to the object of my affections. I’ve never been mushy, sentimental or cheesy when it came to relationships. I’m a logical person, a math and science type.
Almost thirteen years ago, my best friend, Sarah went to Cancun for a Spring Break trip – she came home telling me she met the man she’d marry. I could have smacked her. Was she kidding? Did she really think that some pirate that she met on a dinner cruise who was from MEXICO was going to be her husband, the father to her children? I never believed in love at first sight – not even after I met Oliver and knew that he’d be the man my best friend married. Not even after they celebrated their 12th wedding anniversary and the birth of their two beautiful girls – still didn’t believe.
That all changed on January 28th, 2012.
I had met a friend for brunch. Which quickly segued into grabbing drinks, which then, if you know these friends lead to bar hopping. I shouldn’t have been out. My allergies were kicking in and I had cancelled dinner I was to have with some friends that night. Our group grew and slowly people started leaving – and then there were four. We were sitting at the bar. I was on the end; body slightly turned talking to my friend to the right of me. The door was behind me and to my left. I’ve told this story a few times and it still sounds strange when I get to this part… I literally felt an energy come into the bar. I swung around on my stool to my left and started tracking a group of men walking in. They looked slightly confused and very European. I was tracking one of them as they walked past the table behind us, turned around and came back. He still hadn’t looked up – I continued to stare. They ordered drinks and with his first sip, he looked up in my direction and I smiled. He smiled back.
I continued to stare, and smile at him – and mouthed, “You’re beautiful!”
[First things first – those of you who know me well know that this is something completely out of character for me. When I’m with my friends, I’m the type who is WITH them. I don’t care what’s going on around me and have said, if I ever met a guy worth dating at a bar, it would be because he noticed me having fun with my friends and said something to me. Second of all, what cheese ball mouths, “you’re beautiful” to a stranger??]
He continued to smile the most amazing smile I’ve ever seen – and started walking towards me. He asked me what I had said… to which I confidentially replied, “Oh, I just said, you’re beautiful and I love you!” He laughed, and told me his name was Devin and that he should know my name if I loved him. He joined his friends. I turned and talked to Brian again. Though, for the life of me, I can’t tell you what I said to him.
The guys decided we were leaving – I walked back to Devin’s table and told him my friends had decided to leave, but he should have my phone number. He took it. We left.
[I rarely give my number to guys – and certainly not one who I hadn’t been talking to for awhile]
Once at the next bar, I received a text from Liana asking where I was. My response, clearly a drunk one, but completely aware of what was happening read: “I just met my knight in accent hour”. I can only deduce I meant… “Knight in Shining Armor.” After I sent that text, and before I had a sip of my drink, I got a text from Devin… “Where are you? I wouldn’t mind looking into your beautiful eyes again!
Beautiful…aka Devin.”
I told him where we were at, he told me to stay put he was on his way – I don’t think we were gone even 15 minutes. I waited outside, he walked up… I grabbed his hand and headed west on Sixth Street.
[I am not an affectionate person – and physical touch is probably the love language I’m least “fluent” in. This has been the fall of many of my relationships in the past. But there I was, holding his hand, like I’ve always held it before, and couldn’t imagine walking down the street without my hand in his]
From the cab ride home, to being in my house, details are a little blurry. Thankfully Devin had had only three beers that night and filled in the blanks for me. I remember kissing him and feeling like it was the best kiss of my life. Around 1230 he told me he had to leave… he didn’t want to leave… but he had to get on the bus back to Fort Hood. I told him I didn’t want him to leave, couldn’t imagine him leaving and I’d take him anywhere he needed to be the next day. He put a call into a colleague and then we resumed the kissing. In the morning, I remember thinking… “I don’t want this to end… I want to stay with him here forever.” I’ve had my fair share of drunken mistakes and this was not one of them. I knew it. I felt it in everything inside of me. He woke up, pulled me closer and we just lay there. He kept telling me it was the most amazing night – totally strange, but the best kind of strange he’d ever known. Like he’s always known me. Like he’s always been here.
We got up, I made him coffee and we sat together on the sofa waiting for a cab to take up back downtown. I didn’t want that cab to show up. Ever. Apparently neither did he, because we were too busy being with one another we missed the call from the first cab.
He held my hand in the cab – and chatted with the driver about military life. I pulled out my phone and took a picture of him – I didn’t know what the future held – but I knew I never wanted to forget his face or the moment I was living in and the feelings I had in that instant.
We got into my car and began our 78-mile journey to Ft. Hood. I told him I have always said I’d never date military. And I was done dating younger guys. And smokers – yuck. I wouldn’t even kiss them. He got a good laugh and asked me how it felt to be dropping off a younger, Dutch Airborne who desperately wants to give up smoking off at the military base? I remember thinking… it couldn’t feel more perfect.
We talked about everything on that car ride. He told me he didn’t want to leave, and wished he didn’t have to go back. He wanted to stay with me for the rest of the weekend. I told him the ride back would be the worst. We talked about our families, marriage, babies – and our lives before the moment we met. He’s almost 26 but has lived more life than most people I know. He’s served in 3 tours, was on the world barefoot water skiing team, speaks 4 languages fluently and 3 more where he can get by, he was born in Singapore to a Dutch mother and an American father. He is the perfect match of toughness and sensitivity. Humor and seriousness. Honesty. Integrity.
My head is swirling silently on the ride there – I want to turn around, and kidnap him. But know that’s not possible. With all the logic in me, I want to figure out how to make this not end. How to make it work. In my head, I see me in the Netherlands. With him. Forever.
We pull up to the gate at Ft. Hood – they take my info – and I just sit there, looking at him. Not wanting it to end. We kiss goodbye. I don’t want to let go, but there’s a military police urging me along.
This is what it feels like? This is what it feels like to fall in love. And this is what it feels like to have to say goodbye to the one you love.
On the way home, I texted a few people… “I believe in love at first sight and I think I fell in love.”
I get home, and text him. Partly in Dutch – hey, If I’m going to live in the Netherlands, I should know some Dutch. Four texts are exchanged that Sunday. Most of them in Dutch.
To be continued…
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