Guess I wasn't the best one to ask
Me myself with my face pressed
Up against love's glass
To see the shiny toy I've been hoping for
The one I never can afford....
When I was in my 20s and many of my friends were getting married, I would listen to it - as a way to reassure myself that one day it would be my turn. After bad first dates, no shows, heartbreaks, I'd play it as a source of comfort.
I say love will come to you
Hoping just because I spoke the words that they're true
As if I offered up a crystal ball to look through
Where there's now one there will be two
In October 2018, I went to an Indigo Girls concert with my college roommate. I hadn't seen them live and, truthfully, hadn't listened to them in probably a decade. Song after song came back to me, like old friends I hadn't seen for awhile. I remembered all the words as if I still listened to their songs on a daily basis. When the first few notes of Love Will Come To You started, my eyes watered up. Tears starting streaming down my face. I was overcome with so many intense emotions. Why? Because love had indeed come to me. Finally.
Exactly four years ago, on January 25, 2016, I went on my last first date. Now, I certainly didn't know it at the time. Our first date actually was supposed to be on January 30th, when he was going to be in the city for his younger niece's birthday party. But, thanks to a blizzard over the weekend, his parents weren't up to trekking into the city to watch their granddaughters (our nieces) during their normal Monday afternoon timeslot. My now husband volunteered to watch them - not only because he loves to spend time with the girls, but I believe because he secretly was hoping to meet me sooner than originally planned since he was nearby.
Mondays are typically long work days for me. Plus, this particular week, I had a big presentation the next day at work that I hadn't even started working on. But, I was admittedly intrigued. I was trying not to get my hopes up too high - I figured I'd meet him, have a drink, maybe a snack, and be home in an hour.
Four hours later, I was still out with him. Neither one of us can remember much about that night. We shared fish tacos, talked about Pearl Jam (when a song came on over the speaker), and chuckled about his older niece telling him that needed to find a wife, having no idea he was heading out on a date. Beyond that, neither of us can recall. It was a nice night - easy conversation with someone it felt like I had known my whole life. Eleven months later we were engaged.
The husband thinks it's ridiculous that I want to celebrate our dateaversary now that we're married. In my mind, our dateaversary is a date we should always honor as the true beginning of our relationship. The date true love had finally come to me.
But that's just my view. From the 33rd floor.
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