Steve and I, in a nutshell:
How this all began
I was at a busy time in my life with a lot of thoughts and dreams and superstitions running through my mind. I was in my final year of university and although I did not want to be, slowly but surely I was getting ready to move on.
I started casually seeing a friend as more than a friend, and although I promised myself I would not do it this time, I got wrapped up in the emotions and feeling of rejection and elation when he forgot to call or when he stopped by. Things ended, not very amicably, and I was convinced that I would be alone. That I would graduate and move away and start a career and fulfill myself on a level different than love and one night stands. I was going to wait until I was thirty and then adopt a baby from China. I was going to wait until she was about three or four and adopt another. I was going to do it all myself, have my own little family that I did not have to share, do it all have it all and somehow escape the threat of getting hurt or getting my heart broken.
Somewhere in between the sleeping with my friend and trying to convince myself I did not really care anyway, I met Steve. Jill had met him before, and in his own charming drunken way he had somehow convinced her he was an asshole. Our other friend Rob, told us that Steve was a good guy, so I decided that when I met Steve (granted we had already met that Halloween, but I was drunk and do not remember) I would win him over. I saw him at a party, and what started out as innocent flirting to see how far I could push it, ended up with me trying to kiss him at the end of the night. Needless to say, he did not let me.
We started, coincidentally, running into each other more at parties and our friends houses (turns out we were both finding out what parties the other was going to and suggesting we head there). We hung out one night in a group at a pool hall. He made me feel electric inside. When he flashed a smile at me or made eye contact while he was telling a story it made my insides jump. When I talked to him I thought about the way it would feel if he was kissing my neck. I thought about the way it would feel if he held my hand at the movies. It had been so long since I had felt that way about someone, that I was not really sure that that was what I was feeling at all.
We ended up kissing one night, outside of the bar. We were talking, him on his way home and I on mine, and leaning on a fence and we kissed. And we went our separate ways. I had told myself that I was not having any more one night stands, and Steve had disaster written all over him. He was leaving to go overseas in two months and at the rocky end of a two year relationship. He started calling me. I was surprised that he called, but happy, and blushed while we talked. He called me some more. Then we went home together. He told me how beautiful I was as he peeled off my clothes and kissed my stomach but I would not let him do more. So we laid in bed in our underwear and made out that night. He called again. We went out drinking together again the next week. He told me he could not stop thinking about me. I told him to stop using lines. He told me that I was beautiful and he could tell that I was scared. I tried to match him drink for drink. I lost, got smashed and we went home together again. Somewhere within a few weeks of this same progress we ended up having sex. Both of us agree to this day that it was probably the worst sex that we have had together, and I felt horrible afterwards. I felt like I had done exactly what I had told myself not to, which, I suppose, I had. I asked him not to tell his friends, and then called Jill and told her. And much to my surprise, he called me the next day. I told him I was calling it quits and we did not talk for two weeks. I changed my mind over the Christmas break and while Jill and I drank at my parents house I devised a plan to get him to not ignore me at the party we were going to. It ended up being much easier than planned, and he later told me that I had won him back over as soon as I put my hand on his back and smiled at him as I walked by. We ended up making out all night at the bar. One night a few nights later, we drove out to Green Hill and made out furiously in his car. A few nights later, after the bar we ended up having mind blowing sex in his backseat. Trashy? Yes. But neither of us could stop coming back for more.
But we had fun together, too. He made me laugh and did not seem to be fake. He was honest about his relationship and asked me to be honest too. He promised that while he was sleeping with me, he would not sleep with anyone else. He told me that he could not have sex with someone without getting emotionally involved. His honesty was refreshing and despite my better judgment I fell completely for him.
We both tried to break it off a couple of times, because he was leaving and because the timing was wrong and because his ex-girlfriend found out about me and because of all these different reasons. The last two weeks before he left, we spent every night together. We said that there was no pressure. He said even if we were casual, he could not take any other guy. I told myself that there would be no expectations. And so he left. We talked everyday on the phone and on messenger, for hours. It is sometimes somehow easier to be more honest when you are not face to face. I sent him birthday packages and letters and cards. We flirted everyday and I teased him and flirted with him.
It got hard though, and school got stressful. I liked him but started to doubt it all. I asked myself how things could really continue to be as good as they were before he left when he was half way across the world. So we argued and fought and drove each other nuts. I bailed on a romantic weekend for two in PEI he had planned, he was mad and hurt and told me I was crazy. He told me he did not want the first time we saw each other to be in a bar with tons of other people around. I told him to stop expecting so much from me.
He came home from his leave and came over to my apartment. As soon as I saw him, everything fell back into the same place it had been before he left. It was the same tingling, the same butterflies, the same I-cant-keep-my-hands-off-you. He was home for two weeks, and it was not until a few days before he left that we sat down and talked about what had happened. I told him I loved him, that somewhere along the road of our crazy dramatic relationship I had fallen in love with him. He said he loved me, too. I teased him about falling in love with me before he had even left. We were more sexual than anything I had known. We were passionate and I just could not get enough of his body against mine. And back he went.
That time was much easier, although ten days before he came home, I left for a five week job three hours away. The rest of the summer consisted of him driving down to see me. I came home. We settled into a relationship, we got used to each other and it never slowed down. I knew from the time he was on leave that he was the one for me.
In so many ways, we are so different. But he compliments me. He says the right words to calm me down when I am upset. He explains generators and electricity to me. He gave me a drill. I remind him to call his mother. I convince him to try new foods. I tell him how lucky he is to have all four grandparents alive, and we visit them when we go home.
I had myself convinced that life would be easier without love, without this kind of vulnerability before I met Steve. I thought that because I had never felt that kind of connection that lasted with someone, there was something wrong with me. I was focused on getting to know myself and being happy with who that person was when Steve came along. As we shared stories about our lives, we realized that our paths had crossed at least a dozen times before we actually met, and I really think that is because neither of us were ready for what we found in each other. Steve is everything I could want in a man. He is religious, he is patient and kind and loving, he knows when to cuddle and coddle me and when to give me a boot in the butt. He helps me reach my goals, physically, and he is patient when I am stubborn and refuse to listen.
His profession is not exactly one without risk and there are days when I think about him leaving me and this child, when I think about having to live my life without him. It breaks my heart, and I pray to God that I never have to find the strength within myself to do that. His joy at feeling his baby kick was unabashed on his face, his sense of humour made our midwife laugh through the whole appointment. This is not the life I imagined for myself, but I can honestly say that I have never been happier or more excited about the future.