We met in 2003 at a coffee shop. I was playing "wing (wo)man" for a friend and her Match.com date. You know, she needed an "out" in case he was creepy. There was this guy sitting at the bar with really nice arms n' shoulders, baseball cap pulled down too low to see his eyes. He drank coffee and smoked Camels. I bummed a smoke off of him, he'll say I did something untoward to get his attention—I didn't. 'Cause I had seen him move to the place I was sitting, and we smiled at each other as I was driving away, there was some deliberation at a stop light. I went back. After talking about patience, I told every silly joke I know and he knew them all. We ate Pho and saw a movie, then in very cliché fashion stayed up all night talking.
He pursued me to a degree that made me more nervous than his mere presence.
Instead of moving to Kaua'I as I had planned, I ran off to Costa Rica with him. We drove through Mexico, Matamoros to Tapachula, then took a TicaBus to San Jose. Ask us about it sometime, we'll tell you all about it. I wouldn't trade a second.
We assessed immediately where we stood spiritually, and serendipitous coincidence we agree in that realm. Since we're both raised in Texas there's already an understanding for right and wrong, Honor and Truth, manners and social protocol.
He wanted me to sit next to him in the booths we frequented, instead of across. He ordered my food for me, and he'll send it back for me if he sees I am dissatisfied.
Someone once asked me what made me decide to have kids…"He just smells so good." Originally he was the first to bring up the subject of babies, I was reluctant. I came around though.
I met my match. The man that can argue with me. He can be silly and intelligent. He makes me laugh and generally knows how to de-fuse a rampaging Ada.
No matter how mad I get, or how mad he gets, we both know we love each other. We both know also that we are inextricably linked now—if there was no going back before, there is certainly no end now.
Like an Uber Man, he's masculine enough to handle being at an all mommy birthday party.
He's goofy, tho' one mightn't know it to look at him. I've seen him do cheers.
He's a parrot, an uncanny ability to repeat almost verbatim information he finds fascinating or pertinent to modern situations.
He's physically imposing, a wonderful specimen of man.
He can fix things. Nothing sexier than seeing him with his "bags" on doing carpentry work, whether it's building stretchers for his paintings or a fence. He hates plumbing, but he'll do it when he has to. It's especially nice watching a Papa build a birdhouse with his daughter.
He's a label-whore…no really, ask him about fashion, he'll tell you himself. Well, maybe he will.
He officially became a daddy on 4 May 2006, I knew he'd make a good one too. Every time I saw small children around him, they were oddly transfixed by him.
His daddy-ness was apparent the first time Little Girl smiled at him. Watching her run to him in excitement with his simple arrival home…I relish that my daughters have a really great Papa.
We've known each other long enough now to have heard a lot of our stories twice.
The Man is a self-professed "delicate flower" and not one person at first blush would guess it's true.
He doesn't mind my pregnant-head, my nursing nods, or my mom brain…how my stories sometimes don't connect or make sense. He doesn't mind my cookie fails, or my pie- soup.
We keep making new stories together. We play off each other in social settings, making a fairly decent impromptu comedy team.
He has done his level best to keep us afloat under financial duress. He works hard enabling me to stay home full time being my best Mama-ness. At the same time he understands when I need time for myself.
He is the father of my children, I do love him so.
Happy Father's Day, Gary, I love you!
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