I am half-leaping, half-falling out of a cab, nearly tripping on my oversized shoulder bag, my purse, my own feet. I laugh, recalling how the Dashing Litigator often refers to me as his 'bag lady', since I seem unable to go anywhere without lugging half my belongings with me, like some kind of urban turtle. It is the end of another workday, and I am meeting the Dashing Litigator (who is having drinks with his parents) inside a hip bar in Chicago's west loop. I am only making a brief appearance to collect his rather newish car (a huge, black and beautiful SUV that we call "Aretha"), to head home in rush hour traffic to feed our Duncan before driving out to the burbs for a dress rehearsal.This has been the way for the past couple weeks. The Dashing Litigator has lived without his car and sometimes his girlfriend - spending his evenings entertaining Duncan, trying out new recipes, doing my laundry, preparing me lunches and dinners. He's become a regular stay-at-home dad, making temporary sacrifices so that I can pursue my craft.
We are 9 months into this relationship and I can say without hesitation that I have never known a love so rare, so supportive, so genuine - as this.
In the time since my last post, we have taken vacations together... a weekend excursion to St. Louis, and to my hometown of Novi, Michigan for Easter. We've traveled to Marco Island twice and had enough romantic adventures to rival the most extravagant of honeymoons...champagne sunsets, decadent dinners alfresco, collecting shells, catamaran excursions, and "From Here to Eternity" moments on the surf. And while travelling can be a typically stressful time for some couples, we made it through unscathed and actually more in love.
We have spent time apart - nearly two weeks while I was out of town on a theatre job. While separated, we talked on the phone every night, missed each other terribly, and came home to each other more appreciative and more connected than ever before.
And then - there's Duncan. I never knew that I could love a dog as much as my beloved family dog, Cole - but Duncan has found a permanent place in my heart. The three of us have become a family of sorts, and the Dashing Litigator still marvels that he is a dogowner. He also delights in watching Duncan grow, pointing out that his physical growth is an outward reflection of our growth as a couple. I couldn't agree more. We discuss obedience training, feel guilty about putting him in a kennel while we travel, worry about him when he is in doggie daycare and being bullied by a boxer. We buy him treats, show off pictures like proud parents, take lazy Saturday naps with him, cheer when he finally jumps from the back of the SUV by himself, take him to the park, are embarrassed when he misbehaves in front of strangers, but through it all - we laugh.
I've met and spent time with his lovely parents, his friends, his siblings and their families. He has spent time with my family, given my father legal advice when they were encountering obstacles in opening their bed and breakfast, and completely won them over. We have seen each other through family crises, apartment hunting, and sickness (projectile vomitting, no less, and high fevers).
Every day I learn something new about my Dashing Litigator. The little things...how he doesn't like milk in his cereal, how he can't fall asleep unless his feet are sticking out from under the sheets, his borderline obsession with cherry chapstick, his love for the Miami Dolphins, Anita Baker, bourbon, and a pair of stonewashed blue jeans he's had since undergrad. And the bigger things...what he wants from his life, in his dream house, what he fears, what he hopes for, what keeps him awake at night, what brings him solace.
There is an energy about him that is palpable...a forward moving momentum that I want to be part of. He is kind, generous, mischievous, hilarious, intimidatingly smart and wildly sexy. He is warmth and passion - possibility and hope- head and heart. He is home.
And I need him.
I'm surprised that I could need someone so much, actually. I was the perpetually single girl who could take care of herself, thank you very much. The Grace to a host of Will's. "I don't need a man. Sure, I'd like one to have around, but I don't need one." And yet here I am - verymuch needing this man. There is a tremendous feeling of peace and relief when I'm with him - like falling into bed - or slipping slowly into a hot bath.
We talk about the future. To us, our life is a book that is being written, chapter by chapter. Occasionally we go back and read the earlier parts. I remember the moment I started to fall in love with him: on our second date - he left to use the restroom and returned with a hanky for me, as I had the sniffles. Such a kind and simple gesture...and yet I melted. He remembers the first time I cried in front of him, telling him something that was very difficult, and how at that moment - every ounce of his being screamed to protect me.
My heart breaks for girlfriends who are, at this very moment, mourning the abrupt and confusing end of a relationship; girlfriends who are hanging onto men who are slowly eroding their spirit and soul - as it's better than being alone. Girlfriends who are single and resigning themselves to that sort of an existence - forcing themselves to be content with this outcome, giving up on any sort of hope that there is a good man out there who will love them for who they are.
I want to fly a banner from a Cessna...I want to broadcast it on the 6 o'clock news:
I love him madly.
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The Dashing Litigator has picked me up to take me to his house for dinner. Earlier, I had gone for a run that left my right calf aching and throbbing. In the backseat I greet Duncan and he wags his tail happily. This is a familiar routine, spending a weeknight with my boys.
An hour later we are sitting at the kitchen table, savoring his delicious homemade pasta while Duncan lays at our feet. We are talking about the meal, our families, our days.
He looks up at me suddenly and smiles. "I love you, Carrie."
I love you, too.
He nods his head as though arriving at a decision. "I'm in." He adds. "I'm totally in."
Later we will go to the park with Duncan and play catch with him. We will come home and clean up the dishes from dinner. He will take Duncan out one last time while I brush my teeth and remove my contact lenses. I will spread peanut butter on a chew toy and put Duncan to bed, while the Dashing Litigator flosses his teeth.
This is one of our many rituals. Loving routines that remind us that we are in this together.
As we fall asleep holding each other, I watch him - silently knowing that there is no place on earth I'd rather be.
As I fall asleep, I know it in my heart.
I'm in, too.
