We met as teenagers at a grad party. He was 18. I was 17.
We were introduced to each other through a common friend. He was one of the popular kids in school, so I’d seen him around, but beyond that, it was just another day, and he was just another face to greet.
He claims, however, that from the day we met, he couldn’t shake this feeling he had about me. I didn’t quite get it. It’s not like I’d done anything to win him over. I just existed in our friend group, and that was enough for him.
Shortly after meeting him, I flew to Montreal―as I did every summer back then―and we stayed in touch through email and an old chat platform called ICQ (I seek you).
Our friendship blossomed online and grew more after I got back. He had a knack for seeing me―the soul inside this body. He became one of the few people to whom I didn’t have to explain my intentions.
The more he showed me that he could see my heart, the more I opened up and showed him different facets of it.
A Casual Start
He asked me out, and after giving it some thought, I eventually shrugged and said, “Sure. Why not.”
We dated. Then we broke up. Then we dated. Then we broke up.
He initiated all those events.
There was no fuss or drama. I told him it didn’t matter much to me whether or not we were a couple. I mostly cared that his exits were honorable so that we could preserve our friendship.
And that, they were.
Turns out his personal values include being a man of honor and integrity.
After our second break up, I told him there was no coming back from The Friend Zone. I like simplicity and didn’t like that he complicated our relationship for no reason with his back and forth. In a sense, I felt like the yo-yo effect would taint our connection and maybe fog our view of one another. I feared we would reach a point of no longer seeing each other’s hearts.
He accepted my terms without protest, and we both assumed our calling was to be lifelong friends.
Tides Turn
A couple of years went by, and I thought we’d settled into a comfortable friendship, but his behavior gradually changed.
Apparently, that initial feeling he’d had when we first met never went away, even when he was dating other people.
When I’d get in the backseat of his car for a joyride with our friends, I pretended not to notice that he would angle the rearview mirror ever so slightly to keep me in view.
In group conversations, when I genuinely connected with other guys, even on a platonic level, he’d work his way into the conversation, wearing a smile I could tell was masking worry and unease. I told myself it was because he had other things on his mind. Girlfriend trouble maybe?
Then he started calling more often, and I told myself it was no big deal. Our conversations were driven by respect and appreciation for one another’s views. The hours we spent talking felt refreshing and I got to enjoy the person he is without seeking more out of the exchange.
For months, I refused to give any indication that I’d registered his subtle hints of interest, relabelling them as something else. I was, above all things, protecting our friendship. Why risk losing one of the few people to see my soul to relationship drama? Plus, I was sure his interest would eventually wane since that was his modus operandi at the time.
Then, one day, he showed up at my house looking slightly unhinged, like an unprepared keynote speaker who says, “F**k it,” before stepping on stage to face the crowd.
“I can’t be just a friend anymore,” he blurted out. “It’s killing me.”
Killing him?
“Either we’re together, or I’m out, because I can’t live like this.”
Live like what?
His ultimatum stunned me. On the one hand, I wasn’t looking for a serious relationship, but on the other, the thought of losing him sucked the air out of my lungs.
I barely managed a rebuttal.
“What do you mean ‘you’re out’? Like gone-gone?”
“Yes.”
“Why can’t we just be friends?”
All the effort I’d put into keeping our boat steady, and he’d rocked it. Not only that, but he threatened to capsize the vessel, with me in it, and then swim away.
Tears welled up in my eyes. This was unfair.
I needed time.
I had to make a choice.
I chose him.
Unchartered Territory
He was 24, and I was 23, when we tied the knot and chose to sail into new waters.
Some years were a blur of choppy seas, filled with career shifts, back-to-back pregnancies, and figuring out life as partners. Other years were smooth sailing, celebrating milestones we had achieved together and new discoveries that brought bounty to our lives.
The biggest change, however, was that my initial carefree “why not” decision somehow led to a love deeper than I could have imagined.
We’ve officially spent more time together than we ever spent with our parents or siblings.
I like to joke that I started out cold, but now, I love him with the heat of a thousand suns.
I even tackled him to the ground and coerced a commitment out of him for the next lifetime—just in case reincarnation is a thing.
They say that behind every great man is a great woman, but consider this: behind every strong woman is a man who refuses to chip away at her power.
Part of the reason I can go into the world feeling free, confident, loving, and even a little feisty, is because I have someone at home who doesn’t chip away at the confidence I have in myself or in us.
His devotion to our family, and even to me, is otherworldly.
Some days, I am in awe of the partner I have; other days, I am filled with gratitude so strong it could carry the world on its shoulders.
Is he perfect? No.
Is he perfect for me? Yes.
Today, we celebrate 21 years of marriage and 27 years of genuine friendship.
I take nothing for granted. Our happiness isn’t fake, but it is manufactured.
It is manufactured by love and a nurturing behavior toward the other.
It is manufactured by a protocol that allows us to navigate rough seas with compassion and empathy for the other.
It is manufactured by a commitment to self-care that keeps each of us strong, not for our own gain, but to ensure we can carry the other when they grow weary.
Even though we’re still on this journey, and there is no telling where it will take us from this point onward, I can’t help but thank the heavens for my husband, my best friend, and the love of my life: Marc Ferguson.🖖