One of my favorite parts of my love story with my husband Adam is how we fell in love via the written word, exchanging letters and emails while he was deployed in Iraq.
We had briefly dated before he left, but our relationship developed slowly while we were worlds apart. While things seemed good on paper and screen, I’d sometimes catch myself wondering to myself if what I was reading and feeling was reality.
How was I to know if we were truly compatible? Did we have chemistry? Did he have any annoying habits that would be a deal breaker for me?
Yet, the more we wrote to each other, the more I lost my heart to him. I still worried that once he returned I’d realize I’d been foolish, that I had been living in a dream world. But every exchange we had confirmed that Adam was worth the risk. I was so attracted to his personality and his intellect that I hoped any concerns about having an in-person relationship could be worked through or overcome.
We sat behind our computers, hitting delete a number of times before hitting “send.” We sat down to put pen to paper, scratching out words and crumpling rough drafts, tossing them in the garbage never to be seen again. But there was no “delete” button sitting face-to-face, no chance to sit and think for 20 minutes before responding to a question. Our reunion would be “live” and unfiltered. Would it work?
When he did return from the war, our first meeting was laced with the normal nervousness of a first date. Yet in some ways it was even more awkward because there we were two people – two friends – who had shared our thoughts, opinions, fears and hopes with one another over the course many months, but hadn’t done so face-to-face.
After the initial awkwardness we settled into easy conversation and haven’t stopped talking since. That night we attended the wedding of a friend, and as Adam pulled me close on the dance floor all my fears faded away. It just felt right. We felt right.