I never thought I would....

About a month ago, I submitted an article as part of a contest to Real Simple magazine. I’m not sure what will come of it, but the idea was to finish this sentence “I never thought I would…” Since we’re just days away from the big day, I want to share with all of you what I wrote:
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I never thought I would get married. Not me. Sure, I have been a bridesmaid in countless weddings and have always said I wanted to eventually get married, but I never pictured myself up there on the altar, saying "I do." Yet, here I am, just weeks from the big day. It's surreal, but on September 18th, I will be marrying my best friend, the love of my life, something I never in a million years saw myself doing. I will be that girl. That girl I never thought I would be.

See, I wasn't the little girl who dreamed of her perfect wedding day. I was not into the happily ever after fairy tale ending. I never pictured myself with Prince Charming. I did not dress up as a bride for Halloween. My Barbies never got married to Ken. Rather, they were more like characters from Sex and the City: they had an awesome job, lived in a great house, and wore the cutest and most stylish 1980s couture. Ken was around, but he was more of a side character. He was there when Barbie wanted him around, but as soon as she got tired of him, Barbie was off spending time with her girls, Midge and Teresa. (See, I was also that girl who owned all of Barbie’s sidekicks.) It's not that I did not date. I had a series of serious boyfriends starting in high school and through college. I fell in love, and I fell hard. But I also had my heart broken, several times, and each time, I felt a piece of my heart break away until it felt as if there was nothing left. After about six serious relationships, I started seriously doubting the truth behind happily ever after and the myth of soul mates. Did that even exist? People were always telling me to not give up, but at the same time “don’t settle.” Settle for what? As far as I was concerned it was some pretty slim pickings out there, and I felt that regardless of who I dated, it really didn’t matter who I ended up with in the end.

I would not say that I was a complete cynic, but I would say that by the time I reached my late twenties, I was definitely a little jaded and hardened to the idea of love and being with one person forever. I wanted to be happy, and I wanted to find a partner in life. I was just never lucky in love.

By the time I reached 27, I ended a rather toxic relationship with a man who did not treat me well and had a bit of a wandering eye. I decided that I needed to learn what it was like to be on my own for awhile. I wanted to find myself, whatever that meant. All I knew is if I kept going the path I was going, by the time I did find true love, if that ever happened, I would be too jaded to even recognize it when I saw it. When and if I gave my heart away to the one who truly deserved it, I wanted to give my whole heart away, not just whatever was left of it after so many failed relationships.

The problem with finding myself was that along the way, I somehow lost myself. I lost my identity. I lost my passion and drive for life. I felt almost as if I were a shell of my former self. I got my butt drop-kicked by love, and I was just about down for the count. Around the winter of 2008, I had given trying. If I wanted to be honest with myself, I also gave up caring around that time, too. I made a series of bad decisions, not caring how much I hurt myself or where I ended up towards the spring of 2008. It took one huge wake up call in April 2008 for me to snap back into reality. The decisions I had made for myself were ones that I could not erase and ones with possibly permanent consequences. I did not seem to full comprehend this until I had no choice but to face the facts. I had to learn to love myself first and before anything. I am not quite sure when I stopped taking as good of care of myself as I did of others, but my self value plummeted farther than it had ever gone before. This realization forced me to take a step back and reevaluate my priorities in life. That reevaluation included love.

I was caring more about pleasing the person I was with than pleasing myself. I thought that I should just take the first man that comes along who shows any sign of interest, because I did not consider myself to be worthy enough of anything better. By doing this, I was setting myself up for failure and heartbreak. I did not consider myself to be good enough for any man who was good, kind and decent.

In the spring of 2008, a coworker of mine sent me a link to a site called Catholic Match. I was unsure about this for some time, so I saved the email until I could give it some further thought. Sure, I had done online dating before, but I never had much luck from it in my previous searches for “the one.” My coworker had told me, following my last break-up, that all I needed to do was “find yourself a good, Catholic boy.” Growing up in a large, Catholic family, I joked that this would make my mother’s wildest dreams come true. However, I never really considered it a possibility. I was no angel. I had made my fair share of horrible choices, especially lately. Why would any guy of value or standards want to date me? However, in my quest to find myself, I decided to join. Why not? What harm could it do? I signed up for a one month trial membership and let go of the reigns for a bit.

It was not but a couple of weeks before I got an email from a guy named T. He was an engineer, which I found hilarious because he had my father’s name and he, too, is an engineer. We emailed back and forth for about a month before deciding to converse over the phone. As soon as we started talking, we hit it off. He was a sweet, kind person, very intelligent and motivated in life. He always seemed so interested to hear about my day and my life. After a few weeks of phone contact we decided to meet in person. We met at a neutral location for dinner during the week on June 25, 2008. Little did I know that, on that day, I would be meeting my husband. We instantly clicked over dinner, and the conversation just flowed naturally. Shortly after our first date, we decided to go out again. Each time I saw T, I let my guard down more and more. We took it slow, slower than I had ever taken a relationship in the past. Little by little, I let T in. He was patient, never pushed, and never made me feel anything less than perfect in his eyes. He wanted me to follow my dreams, and he wanted nothing in this world more than to see me happy. I fought it as hard as I could, falling in love, until I could fight it no longer. I loved this man. I saw my future when I looked into his eyes. We both realized this one evening, sitting on his apartment balcony, enjoying each other’s company and conversation on a cool summer evening. I looked deeply into his eyes, and I saw love. Later, he confessed that he felt it, too. It was a connection that neither of us could deny.

Now, two years later, we are just days away from our wedding day. We have been planning for this day for well over a year, and as the days get closer and closer, I can hardly believe that this is actually happening. I have found what I thought never was possible – the love of my life and my best friend all rolled up into the same person.

On September 18th, as I am holding my father’s arm, walking down the aisle, I know I will be focused on only one thing: the look in T’s eyes. I will be walking towards my present, my future, my everything, and I could not feel more blessed.