The story leading up to......
Six months after my husband (18 years my junior) walked out of our "marriage" I met my soul mate.
I have always thought that term was rather corny - to say nothing of exclusionary. Life is to big, too long, to have only one person that is perfect for you, I thought. You can't possibly get all your needs met in that one relationship, I justified. I had had a life time of "settling".
Until.
A silly flirtation on LavaLife.
I sent a smile to a member whose profile was a little more than enticing. It was promptly responded to by the receiver and whereby a flurry of funny, clever, tender, and ultimately saucy correspondence followed.
David was “Comefromaway” And he was. At least not from my hometown.
I was “Clevergirl”. (I don't know why...but apparently not clever enough to think of something better).
He was moving the very next day to my hometown after spending 7 years in Brooklyn, NY and 6 months after his wife (18 years his junior) moved out of their apartment.
We emailed for two weeks while he settled in to a new city and new job.
Then we finally took the plunge and met.
From the moment we laid eyes on each other we knew this was something special. We talked and sipped our mutually favourite martinis for 5 hours.
We were smitten. And it ain't easy to achieve smitten status at our ages.
We met up again two days later and have not been apart since.
It has not all been an easy-breezy, 20-something (not even 30-something) romantic romp.
Thank God. Been there. Out grown that.
Two middle aged people are not without baggage of some sort. Two middle aged people are a veritable conveyor belt of complexities, so to speak. But our likes and dislikes, our past experiences and hopes for the future were incredibly reflected in each other. I mean really....what are the odds of two people who have travelled a lot...lived on opposite ends of the continent for decades...who had ex spouses who were practically embryos of the same gestation (who both vacated their relationships at the same time)...finally coming together at the perfect time in their respective lives? I mean really. It was totally unexpected.
When my younger husband left me I thought: Oh my god - what am I going to do now? I will not possibly find someone who has the same mindset as me. Someone who enjoyed the music I liked. Someone who appreciated the more youthful side of life in an authentic (not idiotic) way. And how in the hell am I going to find someone my own age physically attractive? I could not imagine touching a 50 year old man, let alone sleeping with one.
David's concerns were exactly the same. Except for the sleeping with 50 year old men part.
We did not need to worry.
Our relationship is the hottest thing we have ever experienced on any level. We are constantly marveling at how incredible it is to have this most intimate, loving, tender, emotionally rewarding and overwhelming relationship at this time in our lives.
We are each others everything.
The middle stuff:
Eight months after we met, we bought an old parish hall in a 500 year old fishing village on Long Run Road and spent two months getting it renovated into an open-concept living space.
Five days after we moved in ...it burned to the ground.
We were not home, thankfully. We were picking up our marriage license early the next morning, so we stayed in town. Yep. That's right. We were getting married in our dream home one week from the day of the fire.
We lost absolutely everything. People would say : I can't imagine! We would respond: It's easy. Put your sweater one. Lock your front door. Walk down the street. And throw your keys away. That's pretty close to it.
We had nothing but the clothes on our backs.
We lived in a hotel for a week. Got married on the date we committed to. At a friends house. And, drunk on champagne from the reception, caught a flight to Jakarta 4 hours later.
People thought we were nuts. There was too much to deal with. Insurance. Lawsuit with said insurance company. Nowhere to live. But we knew it would all be there, tapping its foot impatiently at us when we got back. We had waited for "our time" far too long to waste one minute.
Our gentle friends in Indonesia would comment that they could not see the tragedy in our faces. Or some translation of that sentiment. I was amazed that people in a small West Sumatran village, who had nothing, by our excessive North American standards could be so distraught at what they conjured up as our loss. They were truly devastated for us.
For the entire two weeks we were in Indonesia we would be woken by the first Call to Prayer (5 am) and we would worship each other. We would talk about how much we loved and respected and adored each other. It got us though some pretty anxious awakenings those immediate days after the fire. At 5 pm we would answer the Call to Beer when we would celebrate our wonderful good fortune at finding each other, despite the current circumstances. It just didn't matter.
The happy ending:
And it still doesn't. The burned out building is still up after three months. Every single delay, frustration, confusion and out-and-out screw up that could possibly happen in getting things resolved - has. After three months of hotel and cabin living we have ended up back in my downtown home.
We have two lawn chairs and a borrowed 13 inch television in the living room. A mattress on the floor up stairs.
We have everything. We have each other.