Dave

There was a time when I could not see why marriage would ever appeal to me. I had dated through my life, and I enjoyed the fun, the excitement, the romance of that. But never once had I been tempted to make the dating something more. Dating was fun, but in the long run, it would surely get in the way of the dreams I had. Tying my life so closely to someone else always meant that I had to pull myself back, reign myself in, to fit myself into a life someone else would want to live. In the long-run, dating made my life less than I wanted it to be. Until I met Dave.

It wasn’t a sudden thing. We dated for five years, living a thousand miles apart and breaking up every few months because I was convinced that it would never work between us, we were too different, this just wasn’t meant to be. But always we ended up again, at eachother’s door. And always, when I left, Dave sighed and clenched his teeth, and said, “Ok, if this is what you have to do. But this is you who does it - i do not agree.”

Finally, I got tired of this back and forth and decided that I had had enough - either I would break it off for real this time or I would give it a real try, not holding back, not convinced from the start that it would never work. I came to Dave then without restraint, not holding some part of me back, not making up my mind how things would go before they had even begun. And I fell completely - and logically - in love.

I say logically because that was always the stopping point for me - I was always convinced that we were too different to make it. Logic dictated - were I to choose a mate at all - that at least I needed one more like me than Dave. Surely it was clear that I could never find a passionate, exciting life with someone who was so controlled, and so restrained.

But how wrong I was, and in the moment that I let my eyes be open to what was there (rather than seeing only what I thought would be there) I realized that Dave was made for me. There was no more perfect match in all the world than the one I found in him.

Dave is quiet where I am loud, careful where I am careless. He is slow where I am fast, mellow where I am intense. I thought at first that I could never find passion or meaning in a man like that. But what I found instead was that his very calmness, his very reservedness taught me to measure and control my own passions so that I was able to hold onto them longer and go into them deeper than I ever could before.

His stable side did not hold back my dreams, instead it helped anchor them and forced me to build them more carefully so that I would no longer burn my dreams out in a sudden flash of light or loose them on too shaky a base. For the first time, the things I wanted in my life were thought carefully through and created with strength. For the first time I didn’t loose the things I achieved in the first crisis that arose, but was able to hold on to them and build on them forever.

And I think this worked because Dave never tried to force me to change myself, slow down, or proceed carefully towards my goals. I did it naturally because the things I built into my life were no longer only mine. I looked at myself, about to jump into a mistake that excited me and tempted me to the bone, and I thought - this would not be fair to Dave. I can’t do this now because he would pay for this in the end. What I could not do for myself I could do for love of him. And so I proceeded more carefully, made choices more cautiously and took the time to work for what I wanted, instead of grabbing at the first possibility that came along. Not wanting to hurt Dave, I finally learned to make choices that didn’t hurt me either.

From the start, Dave has been one of the few people I dated who made me more able to achieve my dreams, rather than less. He was one of the few people I dated who gave me more freedom than I would have without him. But that isn’t all. That wouldn’t have done it by itself.

In part it is that Dave, for all his calm, gentle reserve, is also quite passionate in his way. I remember when I first met him, asking why he liked being a computer programer. I assumed it was the predictability and control that such an (obviously) boring ability brought to his life. But what he answered took me completely by surprise.

For the first time since I’d met him, Dave’s calm, reserved demeanor slipped away. He got a glint in his eye and excitement in his face. He hunched his shoulders just a bit and leaned in, as though he were about to tell me an exciting secret. He rubbed is hands together and bit his lip and said, “Its like this! I’ve always thought programing was like magic! You do all this stuff, write all this code and you create this whole world. You go to school for years to learn it, but no one really understands how it happens - its just suddenly there. I just love it! I always feel like somehow I’m working magic!”

And I was blown away. Who knew that this serious, reserved computer programer was a poet at heart? Since then I’ve found many such surprises in this man. Dave is a man and has a man’s demeanor - he works mainly in logic and the physical world. That is his primary way. But that is not all there is in him. If you look deep enough, you will find a great variety to who he is - a great depth of humor and wit within him and a great ability to let emotions into his life. And there is something else you will find - one of the things I love the most in him. At his center, Dave has a magnificent lack of fear.

Dave is not afraid of things. I don’t mean physically - in that way he has fears just like everybody else. He is terrified of bees and when we lived in Chicago, he use to sleep with a tire iron by his pillow out of fear that the house would be broken into and we would be harmed. The first time he shot a gun he shook like a leaf (though he is quite comfortable with them now). And once when I was living in a tee-pee and he came to visit, he spent the whole night pacing the small floor beside my bed because there was a bear outside and he was sure it was going to come through the cloth to reach us in the night. In that way, Dave has as many fears as anyone, I suppose. But what has always struck me is that in another way, Dave is the most fearless person I know.

Dave has never been afraid to risk his heart, his emotions or his pride. In the start of our relationship, when we would fight, I would do what I had always done - get quiet and say nothing, inside thinking, “Forget it, I don’t care. So what if I loose this anyway.” But Dave would never leave a thing like that. Always he would push ahead and force us to talk things out, no-matter what we might turn out to say. Always he refused to leave things in anger - if it took all night, he would continue to push until we both understood the other and ourselves. He’s never been afraid to say he’s wrong (not one of my strong suits, that’s for sure) and he’s never hesitated to compliment and tell me what he loves, respects and enjoys the most about who I am. And he’s never been afraid (or unwilling) to grow.

When we first met, he was not a particularly introspective man by nature. That was always my big thing - know how you feel, understand why you do the things you do. Drove him crazy, but it was essential to me. And so he learned. He grew and changed. He didn’t like that much - found it very uncomfortable and liked the old way better. But he never questioned that each person in a relationship has to grow to meet the other. So he worked, and he changed to meet me along the way. And he never acted as though this were something unpleasant he was doing just for me. Instead he looked at himself and said, “Ok, I would be better off if I were more aware of how I felt about things and why I did the things I did. I may not care enough to make these changes by myself, but since it is important to you, I can recognize that it is something I should do anyway.”

Dave’s a big man, with a Russian build, legs like tree trunks and a beard. When we lived in Chicago, I use to tease him that he looks like a lumberjack, and its even more true today. He holds up a big part of our life here on this ranch, in off-grid Montana. He’s learned enough about electricity to wire the house himself and do most of the repairs when our electrical system needs work. He is exceptionally good with wood and can build anything we need. He uses a chain-saw well, has every power tool under the sun, he splits our wood with an ax. He has learned to butcher the animals we raise for meat and can shoot a gun - occasionally killing a coyote that threatens our flocks.

He’s also a computer programer of exceptional talent, writing software for a big firm in Chicago. He’s brilliant in his way - something I didn’t recognize at first. He can see patterns in things that no-one else sees. I am the philosopher between us, loving long, complex conversations about thoughts and ideas. This is not Dave’s thing, most of the time, but over the years I have discovered that he is every bit as capable of keeping up with this kind of thought as I. He’s smarter than you’d think. He never draws attention to his intelligence, so many people don’t realize its there.
In a very typical-guy manner, Dave likes to be comfortable. If he had his way he would spend every evening watching TV and playing video games. He likes electronics and big trucks. He drools over tractors and four-wheelers and jokes about the day when we can afford to put tank treads on our pick-up truck so he can take it anywhere. He doesn’t like conflict and he doesn’t get angry easily.

Dave always holds the door for me. He gives me his arm when he knows that I’m tired and does his best to hold me up. When he’s feeling alright and we’re doing a project together, he always takes the harder work for himself to do, knowing that it will save my energy just a bit. He lifts the heavy things or does the last couple trips to the car for groceries. He does the running up and down the stairs. Or he helps me feed after he is done with work.

When we work together, he tends to take take the harder jobs for himself, saving me what energy and effort he can. But he never assumes that he has to do this, and he wont hesitate to tell me that I’m not holding up my end of things, if he feels it needs to be said. He works all day on his computers while I work all day on the ranch. My job is raising horses and, while he helps with what I can, the majority of the everyday ranch work falls to me. He often jokes that I am the rancher and he is the rancher’s husband and he never seems threatened by that.

The other night, we were driving home, both sitting quietly, when Dave reached out and took my hand. “I am so proud that you’re my wife,” he said.

“You are?” I asked, quite surprised. “Why?”

“We were sitting there at the table tonight,” he told me, “and I was listening to you talk to your clients and everything you said was interesting. I love that, when I just sit back and watch you talk to people. I don’t have to say anything - you carry the conversation so well. I love hearing how impressed people are with your life and with you. And how much people like to know you. It just makes me really proud that you’re my wife.”

He says things like whenever he thinks them. And that’s what I mean when I say he is not afraid. My strength, my success never threatens him. He is proud of it instead. I think this is because he has confidence in himself that is not subjective in any way. His perception of his own strength does not depend on anyone else being weak.

Dave doesn’t seem to me to spend much time trying to show me how he feels. He doesn’t seem to ever think, “Oh, maybe I need to make an effort here.” It seems to come naturally. He doesn’t get sappy or fluttery. He just says what is real for him when it comes along to be said.

We’ll be walking through a parking lot, or a store in town, and Dave will reach out and take my hand. Just to hold it. He doesn’t comment on it, doesn’t have anything he needs to say. Just reaches out and takes my hand as we shop or work or walk. Usually he doesn’t even stop his speaking. Just continues discussing whatever business we had to discuss. But he holds my hand while we do it.

Its not uncommon for Dave to turn to me these days, out of the blue, and say, “I sure do love you.” I’ll be walking past him in the house, or we’ll be rushing around town running errands together. He catches me distracted, hurrying about my day, and reaches to touch my face as I walk by. And it always stops me in my tracks, my heart suddenly full as I turn to face him, a smile blooming unbidden on my lips. At those times, when I look him in the eye, I can see that his words were spontaneous, forced out because of the feelings that hit him at that moment. And he looks at me with a look that says even more than the words: It says, “I love you and I am so lucky to be married to you and I would not give it up for all the world.” My smile gets wider and I say, “I love you to,” and then we go about whatever it was we were doing, just like that.

This is just matter-of-fact for Dave. Just a part of who he is. I don’t know many people like that - completely unafraid to show appreciation, love or pride in the person closest to him. Not needing acknowledgment for it. Just fitting those moments - just fitting those words - into the everyday life that we live minute to minute.

I think sometimes what a fool I was when I was young. To have dismissed this marriage thing as though it would hold nothing for me. To think that what I saw on the surface of other people’s lives was all that this could be. What a treasure I would have missed if I had stuck to that, if I had not finally seen.

To have found a true partner in this life, in this building and growing and living - this is the ultimate adventure of them all. Now I find that this partnership is the foundation of my life. It is the source of my strength, my growth and my excitement. It is the source of all the successes I have built in my career and my home. It is the best thing I have ever found. Or Dave is the best thing I have ever found. And I am moved, often, by not only how much I love my life and how lucky I am not have it, but by the depth of meaning that is added to it because I am building everything I have, not by my self, but side-by-side with Dave.

He tells me about his thoughts, or makes dinner for us both, or reaches over and takes my hand as he drives. And I find myself astounded that I could have missed for so long so much of the meaning in such a common word as “marriage.” I had no idea, when I was young, the depth of what this word could mean. And likewise, “husband” and likewise “wife.” It was like I saw the tip of these words above the water and had no idea that there was so much more to them, submerged bellow the sea. And now I’ve discovered how large they are and how deep they go, and I am humbled that I misjudged them for so long. And I wake up every morning, excited to see what adventure Dave and I will face together that day. And I go to sleep every night, comforted by the way he reaches out to lay his hand upon my hip as he sleeps, barely aware that he does it, but seeking me all the same.