Last Love

Early on, I knew that Megan was the one.

We’d known each other well for several years prior to becoming an item – and she knew all of the good, bad, and ugly of my most recent relationship.  But I’d not met any of her exes – she’d been flying solo for a good bit of time before moving to Colorado.

A few months in, we did the relationship review. The part where you talk about who you’ve been with and all of the good and not-so-good things things that transpired. You talk about what you learned about yourself and the kind of person you want to be. And the kind of person you want to be with.

That realization – the kind of person you want to be with – it can be hard-fought.

I was a day shy of 30 when Megan and I began our life together. I had no illusions that I was the first person at whom she’d stared adoringly. That she’d never dreamed of white picket fences and a life with someone else. I am not her first love.

In the Chicago airport, returning from Colorado – back to RI, when we were working on the long-distance thing – I found the perfect card.

I don’t need to be your first love, but I want to be your last.

It’s scary to lay your cards on the table, say this is it, I’m all in.

I spent almost 8 years thinking I had both feet in. In reality, I was just standing on one foot. Unbalanced and unsure. My ex was always, as she would say, waiting for the other shoe to drop. In retrospect (which we all know is 20/20), I didn’t put that other foot down, because I wasn’t sure of my footing.

A balancing act teaches you a lot about yourself. About how long you can stand it. About what things you need to maintain that balance. About what things can tip the scales entirely.

Megan tipped my scale. On its head.

It’s been 9 months since we got married. Last Friday, my name change became legal – I’m now, as one friend said – officially hers.  We now have a family name, an arduous but rewarding task.

My cards are on the table. Both feet are in the pool. She is remarkable and I’m thrilled to be her last love.

This post was inspired by my lovely wife Megan, and my friend Erika, who was apparently reading my mind this morning.