I didn’t marry the love of my life. I married my best friend. There’s a difference, as far as I am concerned. Some would disagree.
Meeting the love of your life when you are a teenager can be quite cruel because you are too young to realise it for what it is – the most incredible and intense love you will ever feel. You are also often too young to transition your relationship into marriage and a family.
When I met this man – whom I shall call *Mike for the purposes of sharing my story with you – I was working my way through university at a small grocery store. I started here a couple of years after him and I noticed him immediately. He was so loud and confident. He knew everybody and got along with everybody. I was incredibly shy, having hardly ever dated.
We had one thing in common. We both came from Russian families.
He introduced himself to me one night at the start of a Thursday night shift. He had the most incredible eyes. Well, he still has them. He didn’t lose his eyes. I’ll just never forget the first time I saw them, a light green but almost yellow.
My face burned as he spoke to me, not because I wasn’t confident and self-possessed among people I knew, but because I knew I liked him immediately.
We bickered and flirted and shared family histories for weeks before going on our first date. We had coffee at a cafe next to work. He held my hand the entire time as we drank and talked. I fell hard and so did he. We were inseperable.
Our relationship was intense and profound and fiery. Oftentimes I loved him just as much as I hated him.