1. He loves me in a perfect way. Not the kind of love that is disgustingly mushy, but perfectly mushy. I never feel unloved.
2. When we were 20 years old, we had our first kiss. Under the starlit sky outside the Desmond Dorm at LMU. It was always the most memorable first kiss I ever had. Fireworks. 20 years later, when we kissed again outside of Starbucks in the Marina, it was just like the first time. Fireworks.
3. Before we became a “thing” back in college, Marco was my friend. My confidant. But he was falling for me fast. For Christmas that year, I thought he might get me something sweet and romantic. And I was kind of afraid because at that time I had a different boyfriend. He did give me a great gift. A vacuum cleaner. Because I mentioned that I needed one for my college apartment. I used that vacuum cleaner for years. It was pretty romantic in hindsight.
4. He loves sushi. I do not. But we make it work. Tempura is awesome.
5. He also loves peanut butter. I like it. But he looooves it.
6. There was a day where I was hanging out in his dorm room. His mom called him and he talked to her and made me say hi to her. And then he told her that some day he was going to marry me. Turns out he was right. It just took a detour.
7. He used to make me mixed tapes. I still have one that he gave me from 1991.
8. I can take him anywhere. He’s comfortable around my friends and they love him. It was that way in college and it’s that way now.
9. I loved him already so much. But seeing him love our girls, the ones I already had, and the way he fathered our tiny babies while they were still in the womb, I know how blessed I am to have him. I never had to ask him to be a parent. He just is.
10. He’s supportive in everything I try to do. From my career, to my writing, to just being me. I know I can always have him in my corner.
11. Today is his birthday. Happy birthday Marco! I love you so much. I hope this made you smile.
p.s. I intended this list to be longer, but I might have had a little too much to drink and I’m afraid of what I might reveal if I keep typing. ❤
He is kind.
He is patient.
He shows he cares.
He holds you to the rules.
He remembers the things that you tell him.
He smiles with you.
He hugs you.
He plays with you.
He spends time with you.
He kisses you.
He lifts you up.
He knows what you care about.
He teaches you.
He encourages you.
He helps you.
He lets you try.
He’s there for you.
My post from last year – Father’s Day 2012
If you’re new around here, you may not know that Marco and I met in college. (a long time ago)
Once upon a time, he was a frat dude and I was a sorority girl. We had been seeing each other for a while and he asked me to his fraternity formal. These functions were more than just a night out in a fancy dress and heels. They were weekends away in exotic locations like Palm Springs.
We had a great time. But going out of town with your semi-kindof-undefined-boyfriend can be a lot of pressure. And maybe, just maybe, I was a little neurotic and nervous and weird. But hey, there was champagne, and party punch, and a whole lot of my sorority sisters. It was a good time.
The morning of our departure, we groggily ate breakfast/lunch at Denny’s. I had finally gotten to the point where I was relaxed and gotten over my anxiety over it. It had turned out to be a great time and we were ready to go home.
And then… it happened.
Our food was served. Marco reached out to feed me a french fry. Awww, how sweet right?
What I did not know, is that he had dipped that fry in tabasco sauce.
I was expecting a tasty fry dipped in ketchup. I was NOT expecting my mouth to be on fire.
I can only imagine the look on my face. I quickly drank water. But it didn’t help. He tried to offer me his soda. I turned away from him.
And he LAUGHED!
I don’t even remember if I ate anything after that. I do remember I was so angry. Seething.
He was all, “I didn’t know!”
Well, gee if you didn’t know that I didn’t like hot sauce on my fries, how can we ever make it as a couple?!!
I didn’t speak to him the entire two and a half hour drive home. He tried to hold my hand, I remember. I barely let him. I was determined to make him pay for doing that.
And that was the first time I got mad at Marco. By the time we got home, I had calmed down and we were ok.
But twenty-plus years later, and we still laugh about that.
What? Did you think I was going to talk about some other kind of First Time?