I love him so much.
I love that he calls me his princess. I love that he knows that two golf weekends in a row mean I get bonus points. I love that he says goodnight, sweetheart. I love that he knows, and mentions, that he’s never bought me a thing, and I didn’t even notice. I love that the ring could be a chip, and it wouldn’t matter, because he loves me and I KNOW it. I love that I’m 28 and he’s 36. I love that he wants a godly woman. I love that he wants to get up and go to church with his family on Sunday mornings. I love that he fixes me coffee in the mornings. I love that he brings me water in the middle of the night. I love that when I have a headache, he gets me 4 advil. I love that he knows I drink water, red wine, Corona light, and gin and tonic. I love that he goes to the grocery store to make sure everything in his house is non-saturated fat. I love that he never complains. I love that he knows I’m unorganized and scatterbrained and never on time and never finish projects and he loves me anyway. I love that he wants to drag me to the gym. I love that he tells me when I need to get new tires. I love that he listens to me, smiling, until I realized I’ve been talking about myself for way too long. I love that he lets me lean on him when my feet start hurting at concerts. I love that he’s proud of me. I love that he remembers to include my friends in everything we do. I love that he cares about other people, and protects other people, and helps everyone. I love that he’s a listener. I love that he’s a Christian.
I don’t love that we’re so far apart. I don’t love that we’re both so busy that it’s been two weeks since we’ve seen each other.

I suppose I should document these conversations, because they seem so precious, so important. And frankly, I can’t remember the last time conversations were so touching. I think I was in high school, and naive enough to think that all “romantic” conversations should be documented, because I, after all, was valuable to posterity. (cough, cough)
I don’t know if I’m the one that keeps brining it up, but he must be thinking about it, too. I called him tonight and the first words out of my mouth were, “I’m ready to see you, David.” He said he was ready to see me, too and then we talked about tuliparies and weekend plans and then I finally settled down on the couch and we discussed his work week and men needing to crawl into caves and watch sports. We talked about our trip to Breckenridge and what that had meant to both of us, and he made me feel better about it. And I said that I had decided that if we got married and I moved to Dallas, that I was going to go to SMU and get my MA/MBA. And he said, “So we’re getting married this year?”
“I didn’t say that,” I clarified. “Classes don’t start until fall 2008.” He asked if I was going to keep this big ol’ house, and I said probably. And he asked if I was a joint checking account girl or a split checking account girl. So we talked about money for a little bit. And we talked about how it would be harder than we thought, and I said I was a learner, and I could look at myself objectively and not blame others for my actions.
And several interesting things were said. One, I told him that the day he woke up and said, “Where is she? I want her here. Now.” is the day that we need to start thinking about moving forward. And he said for him, that day had already come. I asked him if he was ready, and he said yes, he was getting old. And he asked me if I was ready, and I said I think so. I had done some thinking about it.
I don’t think the conversation got this far, but my thinking goes like so: No one is ever really ready for something like that.

Saturday morning, trying to decide what to do. I’d really like to go pick out the fabric for my living room windows (yellow?), hang some pictures, run to the home store, do some grocery shopping, quit thinking about my cholesterol, maybe work on some other design stuff for a little bit.
David and I were contemplating last night whether or not we should go to Vegas next weekend. We have an awesome opportunity with some friends, but I’m thinking that our time would be better spent around this house trying to straighten things up.
I heard something interesting the other day–the choices we make today are the people we will be tomorrow. What we decide today determines where we will be in six months. I’m happy today, so that must mean I made some good decisions awhile back.
You know, I think life will always throw you hiccups. No one is perfect, everyone makes mistakes. A willingness to learn, forgive and move on from those hiccups will determine what you become. I had the opportunity to practice this last week, and David practiced it, too. And you know what? We learned a little bit more about each other, fell a little bit more in love, and practiced the art of forgiveness–something we both needed to see the other person practice. He is so, so, so good for me, imperfections and all.

The conversation took an interesting turn last night. I think I let him do most of the talking, and I hope he thinks I didn’t back him into a corner to discuss this stuff, but my thought on the subject was that it probably needed to be discussed.
It went from P & C getting married sometime later this year to K & A to talking about us getting married. He said we would have to sit down, and figure out what it would take for us to live on, financially, and then he would have to hire people. And I said that I had looked at it more like, let’s live on one income and save the other. Then, before I knew it the subject was kids and how old we would be by the time they were out of college (in our 60′s–how’s that for scary?) to what would happen if we put it off for two years so that I could get my masters. We talked about if we got married next year, in 2008, the it couldn’t be in January (shows), February (corny, but I guess we could do it), March (my birthday), April and May (shows), June (expensive), July and August (hot) so that would put us right back to September/October.
And if we did it this year, he said, we’d have to get engaged soon.
Does he want me that badly?

A long weekend began Thursday night, when I drove to Dallas. Friday morning, David took me to the airport early, where I got on a flight to Atlanta. Friday was a short day there, and I got alot done, but honestly couldn’t wait to get back to Dallas to see him. Saturday morning, early, I flew back home, and he picked me up again. We had lunch, lounged around, got ready for the evening.
Saturday night was dinner and a concert. I practiced my first round of insisting on a low-fat dinner–sauteed haddock with ringling potatoes. I requested that everything be cooked in olive oil. And I skipped the bowl of chocolate in the restaurant entry. The concert was fab–Jen met us out, and David’s friend Bryan went, and everyone loved the band.
Easter Sunday we drove to go to church with his parents. Talk about fabulous people–they are right on. They know where their priorities lie, they have their act together, they love me. Love me. I’m a big deal around there, I think.
Summation: I love him. I absolutely adore him. I’ve been nothing but in awe of his thoughtfulness, kindness, tolerance, sensitivity, willing attitude, helpfulness, generosity, work ethic, faith and character since the moment I met him, oh, I guess it was six years ago. I don’t remember meeting him, and I don’t remember things taking off between us–I probably didn’t think he was that special on first glance. I think he asked me to a pool party at his apartment. I remember meeting Tish, and being completely in awe of her. I think I got a bit tipsy, because at one point in time, I remember him coming around the corner, carrying my shoes and purse. And I think that was the first night I stayed over, but I know we were good, because I don’t think I even knew I liked him until that evening. And I remember seeing his Bible on his nightstand, and wondering if that’s the kind of guy he was, then he was probably a pretty safe bet. I don’t remember our first kiss, and I doubt I thought I would marry him at that time. It is safe to say I didn’t recognize any signifigance in him, in us, until much later.
But by golly if he isn’t the best thing that ever happened to me.