What is love?

(I can't resist it..."Baby don't hurt me! Don't hurt me, no more!")
* And also, this is a long post. Just so you know.

At  our state track meet, my senior year of high school. He was 19, I was 17.

I met David when I was 14. I had said hello to him a few times because I was friendly, and because I knew his name. That was all. Then one afternoon at the last track meet of the year, he plopped himself down next to me on the bleachers as I waited for my last race and said, "Hi, I'm David." Then he took a big breathe and said, "I've smoked pot." (I'm not kidding--those really were the first words he ever said to me. Smooth, huh?) I burst out laughing. Who introduces themselves that way?? A little lost for words, I responded with, "Well...good for you?" Then he looked me right in the eye and said, "I just thought...If we're going to be friends, I just want to be open with you. I want you to know what you're getting into. I don't want you to be disappointed later." Well, ok then. And that was the beginning of a beautiful friendship. (In hindsight, I can see now how ULTRA Dave this conversation was. No beating around the bush. No pretending you're something you're not. Just openness. Honesty. Real-ness. And also, in fairness, I should add that he was not a pothead. He just figured he'd jumpstart our friendship by cutting right to the chase and telling me the most deviant thing he had done, so we already had that overwith. He knew I was Mormon, knew I had high standards, and wanted to be straight with me about who he was.)

The next fall we had Chemistry class together. (Get it?? Chemistry??)  Our teacher used his what he called his "Popsicle Sticks of Fate" (tongue depressors with our last names on them, and also...Get it?? Fate??) to randomly pair David and me as lab partners. That night, David came  over to my house so we could write out our lab report, and the lab report that should have taken us one hour to complete, took seven. Mostly what I remember from those seven hours was laughing A LOT. And feeling instantly that I was safe with him.

Prom, David's senior year. He was 18, I was 16.

A little over a year later, we held hands for the first time. A month and a half after that, and he finally (finally!) kissed me for the first time. Five years after that, and we were getting married. Nine+ years after that, and here we are today. And I really, really like where we are today.

I have loved David for over half my life, which considering that I am only 30, is saying something. David is many good things. He is a family man. He is funny. He is committed. He is a hard worker. He is true. He is smart. He is a good listener. He is no-fluff, straight-up, what-you-see-is-what-you-get. As the 50-something yr old airport security guard lady told him last year, he is eye candy (she was serious, which made it a little creepy and a lot funny). I really love him.

I think that love can get better with time. Ours has. It's less generic than it used to be. More catered to us. I'm convinced that true love is a lot less chick-flicky and a lot more just simple, long-term, selfless kindness than the world would have us believe. Just working alongside each other and laughing along the way. For me, that is WAY sexier than roses.

Just today, I called David to see what he thought about me looking for a piece of furniture to refinish and sell. I think I would really enjoy the project. But it would mean one of the cars wouldn't fit in the garage for a while as I worked on it (which I know bugs him), and then that the finished piece would take up space in our bedroom until it sold (which also bugs him). He listened to everything I had to say, then said, "Sounds good to me. Just make sure you find a furniture piece you really love and think will be a good investment of your time. Be smart about it. Go for it." And suddenly my heart just swelled with love for him.

Later in the same conversation, I told him my cousin had offered to take our family pictures this weekend. I asked if he was up for it, or if I should just have her shoot the kids instead. He said, "Sure, I'm down. But...you do realize I have a mustache right now, right?" Oh. That. The nasty chi-mo style "Movember" mustache. The one he loves because it's so heinously hilarious. Then, after a little pause, he said it wasn't a big deal, and volunteered to shave it. And again, as ridiculous as it sounds, a wave of love washed over my heart. When I thanked him, he said, "I'm sure we can work out a deal." And I smiled because he said it with his flirty, I'm-wiggling-my-eyebrows voice.

After we hung up, I honestly thought to myself, This is love. I love the way we are learning to mold ourselves to the other. Learning to dance. HE is so familiar to me. His body, his mind, his gifts, his shortcomings. We gel so much better than we did at the beginning. I suspect that in another ten years it will be even better. We are getting better at loving each other in ways that matter to the other person. I get his opinion before I  launch into a project, and he gives me wings to fly with said project. I support the Movember 'stache, and he shaves it so I can have pretty family pictures. I back myself up to his warm body in the middle of the night when I'm cold, he rolls over and puts his arm around me. He watches kids while I run, I distract them for him during the Oregon game. I load kids in the car to bring him the DVD he meant to bring to work for a client. He folds laundry at night while I am at a church meeting (even though the pile is huge and it's his least favorite household task). I listen to him when he's seen a tough client. He smiles when I occasionally neglect to make dinner because I was caught up in a good book all day. I make a chocolate dessert I know he will like instead of the fruity one I might have picked. He waits til later to watch the Vietnam Veteran documentary because the first ten minutes had me in upset tears.  I encourage him to go on the mancation. He asks how my best friend who is going through a custody battle is doing, when I get off the phone with her. We both burst out laughing in the aisle of a grocery store when we reference a line from a funny movie that applies to our circumstance.

There's beautiful synergy in learning the dance. It's hard sometimes. It stretches us, to put the other person first. And it's vulnerable, to know and be known so intimately. But when we get it right, our marriage is so, so fun.

December 2011, the night before David received his PhD. He's 31 and I'm 29.

In Lubbock they used to have a billboard I saw every once in a while that said, "What have you done for your marriage today?" For my marriage, today, I'm going to say thank you to David when he gets home, for all the romance and kindness he has squeezed into 16 years of friendship. What will you do for your marriage or family today?