One hot day in June, I nervously put on my best (re: the most cleavage!) outfit and went to meet my boyfriend, Adam.  Adam and I had started dating in May and had quickly become serious, though he resisted me every step of the way.  He TRIED to break up with me, even, but I managed to convince him that it wasn’t in his best interest.  Anyway, my family and I went on a long planned trip in June, and I was anxious to get back to Adam.  This was the longest we had spent away from each other since we’d met, and I was excited and nervous to see if we had survived the absence. 

I walked up his driveway clutching a plastic bag with a shirt that I had AGONIZED over; which was the perfect blend of cool girlfriend and oh, I didn’t think about you that much while I was gone.  I was wearing a jean skirt and a shirt that tied in the front, flats because if I wore heels I was a tiny bit taller than him.  I rounded the corner and saw the upper half of his body stuffed into the hood of his mother’s car.  He straightened and saw me, and a slow, wonderful grin spread across his face.  Instantly my stomach dropped to my knees; he looked so GOOD standing there in the hot summer sun.  Jeans that were the perfect baggy, a white undershirt, cigarette sexily dangling out of his mouth.  He wiped his hands on a towel, came over to me, and opened his arms.  That hug felt like I was coming home, truly.  We moved in together that month, and eleven years later we are facing some of the toughest times in our marriage, but we’re facing it TOGETHER, and I feel like as long as I have that man beside me I can do anything. 


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