So here’s a weird thing. When I was a kid, I wrote this little journal entry describing the “man of dreams.” (Well, actually, I wrote the “boy of my dreams” because I was only 13.) Here were my basic requirements: I wanted him to have black hair. (I specified “curly.”) I wanted him to drive a jeep. (I was sort of into the “outdoorsy” types.) I wanted him to have a dog. And I wanted him to play the guitar. Those were my big requirements. (I know, I know – where’s honesty? where’s intelligence? where’s sense of humor? blah, blah, blah. I know. I was only 13. …)
So anyway, I met Chris (my now husband) in high school, about three boyfriends in. The first three boyfriends didn’t fit these requirements at all. But, actually, neither did Chris. He did have black hair, but it was straight as wheat. He didn’t play guitar. And he wasn’t old enough to own his own dog, let alone buy his own jeep. But I liked him anyway. And gradually, eventually, we fell in love. …
But here’s the weird thing: Chris’ hair GOT curly. It started right after our senior year, and, by the time we were in our early 20s, he had a mass of black curls on his head.
Meanwhile, somewhere around that same time, he morphed into a guitar player. … I’m not kidding. Whenever we’d visit his brother and new sister-in-law at their apartment, he’d pull his brother’s guitar onto his knee and teach himself chords and strums while we all carried on a conversation. Today, he owns two. Both acoustic. And he plays them quite well, actually.
In 1993, much to my surprise, Chris drove home in a newly purchased jeep. (Can you see where this is going?) We were already married, but it wasn’t my idea. I never told him about my list – mostly because I’d forgotten about it until fairly recently. But isn’t that weird? Do you think I sort of had a notion way back then that this is the type of man I’d fall in love with? Or perhaps he was always exactly the man I was to fall in love with, but I simply had to mature to properly “see” him.
Theoretically, I’m opposed to such lists. I think it’s a terrible idea to have preconceived notions about who you will (or will not) fall in love with. But I find it a little weird that – despite all likelihood – I met and married a man who literally became my dream. …
Valentine’s Day is approaching, and I’m curious: Did you ever have a “list”? (Or was I the only silly 13-year-old pining away for Parker Stevenson in my bedroom?) Did the list do you wrong, or did it come oddly true like mine? Spill all, girls. It’s only me, you, and my three readers. … : )