damn, how did that happen?

Husband/Partner/Lover/Friend and I are having our 33rd anniversary tomorrow.  I have spent more than half my life with this man.  It hasn’t always been easy.  In fact it was damn difficult for a long time and for awhile there I wasn’t sure we were going to make it.  I was sincerely doubting what seemed like destiny at the beginning.  But now that time seems far away.

This is the story of how I met Marc in 3 parts.  It has a preface and a prophetic dream.

The Preface:

I think I’ve always known several things about who he was or was going to be although, at the time, I didn’t know that’s what it meant.  My first boyfriend was in the 3rd grade,  His name was Mark.  He gave me the biggest, flashiest, glass diamond ring you ever saw.  Then several weeks later, he broke up with me, asked for the ring back and gave it to my best friend.  I think he went to a different school the next year.  That’s the first Mark I remember being attracted to.  Throughout my growing up years, three things became sort of constants.  Any boy with the name Mark (and if it was spelled with a ‘c’ he got extra scrutiny) was the subject of interest although I only dated one other Mark besides my 3rd grade heartthrob, any boy who was Jewish also attracted my interest and once there was a boy Marc with a ‘c’ who was Jewish but I quickly lost interest in him, and I tended to be attracted to guys younger than me.  I remember this in retrospect knowing what I know now.  

And so I grew up, dated various guys, had a long term relationship, ended that, had a troubled two years after high school, and one day agreed to a blind date set up for me by the sister of a guy I kinda liked.  Mainly the reason I agreed to it was because when the sister asked the guy for my phone number and told him why she wanted it, he didn’t object.  Kinda pissed me off.  That’s how I met my first husband (whose name was not Marc).  When I opened the door, it was one of those dumbstruck moments when you feel like you already know this person.  We ended up getting married when I was 21 (that’s a whole other story) but I knew, even on our wedding day, that it was already ending in my heart, that I would not stay married to him and that it was the only real way out from under my father’s thumb, a place I desperately no longer wanted to be.  I know that sounds silly in this day and age but back in the early 70s, women were still subordinate and were denied many things.

Tune in tomorrow for The Prophetic Dream.