This blog post is a two-fer. It's part of the series I'm writing, 30 Things My Son Should Know About Me, AND it's going to serve to fulfill one of my Personal Goals for the New Year, a love letter to my husband on our fifth anniversary. It is also, coincidentally, a milestone post - my 200th. So, I guess it's a three-fer, but that's not really a thing, so...
Dada and I met online. We actually talked once several months earlier, had a lovely conversation, but he has no recollection and I didn't count it as a big loss that I didn't hear back from him, nor did I try to contact him again. It was just a nice moment in history.
In February of 2008, he struck up another conversation with me. Some of his first words to me were, "Oh my God, you're gorgeous!" I've never forgotten. He was fun to talk with, made me laugh, was smart as a whip, and had a good heart.
We went on our first date February 29th. We always say we have a quadriversary, instead of an anniversary of our dating. Normally, we wouldn't celebrate a dating anniversary now that we're married, but it's such a unique opportunity, we do celebrate our quadriversary every four years. It's one of the things that makes us special.
Your dad wasn't so sure about me at first. He had just come out of a relationship and that was still weighing on him, I think. My last relationship had taken a full year for me to get over, so I understood.
When he finally became sure, though, things clicked for us quickly. We knew very early that we were in love. There was no moment. Not for me, at least. I've never experience some specific moment when I realized I was in love with someone. It's always been a progression and the same was true for your dad. All that he was added up to a swelling of feeling in my heart that could not be denied. I loved him. I love him. By September, we were engaged and on a Tuesday in April of the next year, we were holding hands under a cypress tree on the beach, with a double rainbow behind us, reciting our vows to each other in the most intimate of ceremonies. 
We have gone through more together than I ever imagined we would. We have weathered some major storms - storms that I believe would've broken lesser couples (they certainly did their best to break us). I heard someone recall once that the only reason they stayed together was because neither he nor his wife ever wanted to get divorced at the same time. I think that's probably how your dad and I got through some of the toughest stuff (and how we'll get through the future toughest stuff). I'm OK with that. I love him. I love his sweet, sweet heart. I love that he couldn't find his way out of a paper bag. I love that he talks to himself possibly more than he talks to anyone else. I love that he tries so hard. I love that he recognizes his weaknesses and areas in need of improvement. I love that he loves you more than he is able to express. I love that he whispers "I love you" to you more than you are aware. I love all the things that make him who he is. I love that he's still here, though, as you well know by now, I'm not the easiest person with whom to live. I love that he wants, more than anything, to give us all that we want on top of all we need. He's a good man, sweetheart.
How did I know he was "the one"? I don't know. I don't have a specific "a-ha" moment to which I can point. I just knew. The feelings grew until I knew I did not wish to continue without him. I can still say that today. If given the option of living with him or without, I choose with and will continue to do so for the next five years, and the fifty years beyond that. I hope that, if you wish it to happen, you find the same, my little love. I wish for you happiness in whatever form that takes for you.
