For Valentine's Day

Falling in Love


Growing up, I was lucky in love. I had loving parents who took care of me and gave me affection and loved me enough to direct and guide me carefully. My extended family was also loving. I spent much of my time in a loving church family as well. They taught me much about the love of God.

Perhaps because I already felt content romantic love held little interest for me. My brother started finding girlfriends at an early age. I decided I was not going to be silly like he was. I was quite happy with home, and school, and reading, and walking in the woods around our house.

But adolescence worked its customary magic on my body, and eventually my brain caught up with those changes. The opposite sex became a matter of quite some interest, certain individuals around school in particular. I was far too shy to try to do anything about this attraction. Anyway, I figured nobody had any particular reason to take any reciprocal interest in me. Mom and Dad told me how nice I looked, but I figured they were obviously biased. As for personality—well, awkward, socially inept introverts don’t hold much attraction there either.

The first day of college, in Spanish class, I saw a fellow student who would change my whole life. M.K. did not look all that conventionally attractive. Yet that short, massive form caught my eye almost immediately. The personality inhabiting that body was one of the most vivid I’d ever seen. It was the complete opposite of mine—never met a stranger, always smiling, not afraid of looking foolish, always involved in extracurricular activities and volunteering. Everywhere M.K. went my baby blues followed. I did not know it at the time, but my appearance and shy demeanor captured that pair of pretty green eyes in return.

Some way into the first year, M.K. invited me out on a hay ride sponsored by the student union. I had never, ever gone on a date before. I said yes. We had a good time, even though I prompted M.K. to comment “You’re the most nervous person I’ve ever met!” At the end of the ride, in front of the main women’s dorm, I received my wholly unexpected first kiss ever. It was just a peck on the cheek—and it startled me so much I turned into a complete goof.

Over the next couple of years we went out on rare occasions. You would hardly say we were going steady. M.K. had plenty of other attention to deal with. I suppose I could have too, if I’d only realized it at the time. I didn’t really want someone else, though.

Later in our time at college we saw more of each other. That’s when M.K. taught me to kiss in earnest. I learned what happens when a man’s hands gently caress a woman’s breasts (through clothing, at least). I could not think of anyone else, or anything else besides being together. That I was able to hold us back out of what might have become serious trouble says more for a loving but strict upbringing than my own willpower.

Something about the strength of our feelings frightened M.K. I learned later that it had to do with bad experiences and betrayals growing up, things that make it hard to let anyone else get too close. The pulling back crushed me. By the time I graduated we were back on amicable terms. I had nonetheless found someone else I was interested in.

After graduation I moved to another state to graduate school. The other interest ended up leading nowhere. M.K. and I got out of touch, got in touch again, and fell out of touch once more. In my new city I met a number of nice people through church and so forth. Several of them became the object of crushes. Really, though, I never forgot about M.K. It was like that one had imprinted on me. I could not really imagine spending my whole life with anyone else. I felt very lonely and supposed I would always remain alone.

Eventually we got back in touch once again. M.K. came hundreds of miles to see me. We had both experienced a lot and matured a lot during the years apart. Looking back, those years probably were necessary. We weren’t entirely the same people who had known each other in college. Yet the people we were now still felt a great attraction. We began to talk of getting married.

You can imagine what a dream come true this was! The romantic, dreamy part of me was walking on cloud nine. That other part of my mind, the rational and analytic part, was not so sure. That part had been around long enough to see quite a few people fall in love, and marry—and then fall right back out.

Romantic D.L. was all ready to go, to finally satisfy those long-deferred needs for romance and companionship and (especially) sex. Rational D.L. knew that romance isn’t something you can trust your whole future to. Rational understood Romantic’s needs. And understood too that if we weren’t careful we might both end up doing something everyone involved would regret.

So I weighed the pros and cons. I thought about how we would support ourselves. I questioned friends and family for advice. I prayed for guidance. M.K. was doing the same. We both concluded that we had received the same answer. It was time to take the next step.

And so we did. After about a year’s engagement we married and embarked on a joyful honeymoon. M.K. moved to the city with me, where the job prospects were better. We set up housekeeping. We ran into unexpected money problems, and assorted health issues, and disagreements on various things. These all challenged us. Rational D.L. kept reminding Romantic D.L. that love was something you worked on, not something that just made everything OK by magic.

We love each other now more than before. We express it in different ways, different “love languages” if you will. I express myself by doing things for others, by saying loving things to them. And also by touch; I so love to lie beside M.K., and run my fingers along those massive, muscular shoulders and that broad back, and the different textures of skin and hair. M.K. shows love by giving gifts, and through compliments. For M.K. attraction is especially about appearance, and the compliments I hear are often about mine. Some of the things I hear about this or that part of me make me blush. But I’ve realized that it is a way of showing affection, and have learned to accept it in that spirit. It makes me want to take care of the way I look in a way I did not before. I actually like getting dressed up on special occasions now!

Whether through deeds or gifts or words or touch or (especially) sex, we each like nothing better than to show love for the other. I guess you could say we fell in love. We also worked for love, we grew it, we made it, we passed it on from those who first gave it to us. We are in love, and may we have the chance to be that way for a long time to come.