Tuesday, July 14, 2009

What Mr. CB Taught Me

I have to admit something. In a past life (read: when I was a teenager growing up in Los Angeles, otherwise known as La La Land), I've made some very superficial moves. Hey, I was in the land of falsities, right? Nothing really mattered except for what brand adorned your denim, if the hood of your car read BMW, Mercedes, or Audi, and how recent your last mani/pedi was. Yes, I'm exaggerating a little, er, a lot--the entirety of the LA population doesn't fall under the above prerequisites--but there is a lot of pressure put on material things and what "perfect" means.

All of the above is a little abstract, yes, but let's apply it to guys and the reasons I broke up with a few of them. These are going to sound absolutely ridiculous: one wore a mustard-colored shirt I just couldn't get past, one turned on gospel radio on our first date (I was more into pop), one had small teeth, one was short, one was a Sunday school teacher (cute, yes, but not for me), one was a year younger than me (wha? I like 'em older), one called his shoes "sh*tkickers," and one drove a maroon car. In hindsight, all of these guys were probably good catches. Heck, I'll listen to gospel-y bluegrass nowadays and love it. But at the time, er, not so much. And, for whatever reason, I couldn't look beyond these very, very minor blunders.

And then I met Mr. Cowboy Boot. I lived in Boston at this point and was a wee bit further from my previous self. But, just a wee bit. He charmed me, regardless of the fact that I wasn't a big fan of his shoes, the way he wore gel in his hair, and that he didn't fall under my "must-be-a-surfer-from-Southern-California" guidelines. Nonetheless, he surprised me for lunch more than once, went dress shopping with me all day for a work event, and schooled me with his cooking skills (seared tuna, anyone?).

Since Mr. CB and I started dating (over 3 1/2 years ago), I've grown. Whatever image of "perfection" I had in my head no longer exists (if the "person" ever really did exist) or just doesn't matter because what I have now is exactly what I want. It might not fulfill a superficial checklist, it might even have its flaws here and there (it does), but we have enough substance to want to work towards a life together. Enough real substance and that's what matters most. Mr. CB is kind, not only to me but to children and animals and the Earth. He's skilled artistically in a way I can only admire and passionate about the things he loves. He's a great teacher, and a great learner. And simply fun.

If anything (and this is about to get cheesy, thus the title), he's my Noah Calhoun--and certainly not my Lon. (Don't act like you haven't seen The Notebook). Not that there's anything wrong with Lon--he's gorgeous, well put-together, has a great job, and pleases Allie's parents, but Noah is real. He's as real as the dirt that lies around the house he built for Allie (minus the fact that he's a character from a fiction movie).

Either way, Mr. CB struck a chord with me that I'd never experienced before: Realness. Through all of the pressures of growing up, trying to look, act, and be a certain way, it took me a while to realize you can just be yourself. I met Mr. CB after a summer of much self growth and I think it's serendipitous. I was ready for him to help me continue on that journey. No material possessions (metaphorically speaking, of course) to hide behind, just a person with feelings, humbleness, and a quality of life to be proud of.

What has your fiance taught you? How have you grown since you've been together?

1 comment:

  1. ah! i totally totally get it and just had a conversation with someone about this the other day. you and mr. cb sound perfect together.