The first time I laid eyes on Victor, my heart skipped a beat. We were on the soccer field at school, and he was doing things with that soccer ball that made everyone stop to watch. The boys were admiring his soccer skills; the girls were admiring his physique.
“Victor is so … chiseled,” one girl pointed out.
She was right. His muscles were so defined. His pitch black hair was shining with sweat. I felt like I had seen a Greek god.
Go figure, I married that work of art. And Victor continued to take my breath away. But I was a little sad to think those butterflies wouldn’t last. I mean, they couldn’t last, right? Those crazy old couples that are still holding hands and dancing together, they’re only in the movies. And if you do see them in real life, they are probably just holding onto each other to keep balance.
I loved the idea that people in love would continue to be all starry-eyed over each other. But that’s not how a real relationship works, is it? Don’t the mortgage and children and wrinkles replace goosebumps and hand-holding?
Well, fifteen years later, I still feel like Victor’s girlfriend. We’ve been married for more than eight of those years, and still, he gives me goose bumps when I see him. He has a slight limp that makes his gait a little different from everyone else’s, and I love it. But his haircut is what really closes the deal for me. When he walks through the door with a fresh haircut, I lose all sense of propriety. I would probably rush over and make out with him even if the Queen of England were right there in the room with us.
I am glad to say that I’m not the only one who feels this way. Victor has never been one to make a public spectacle, but if he is so inclined to kiss me in public, he certainly will. There is something romantic about the waterfront in our small town. When we walk along the boardwalk, there is a feeling of nostalgia for us there. Perhaps it’s because that is the first place we went after getting our marriage license, years ago. But it’s not uncommon for Victor to stop me at that place and move in for a nice long kiss, right there in front of everybody.
Before I met Victor, I used to envy those teenage couples who would kiss for minutes on end without a care in the world about who was looking. I never dreamed I would be in a relationship like that, especially for this long.
And then there’s what I call his Elvis expression. You know the look—that thing Elvis Presley did with his lip that drove all his fans wild. Well, Victor does that when he thinks I look really attractive. And it drives me wild too. When I see that look, I know he is looking at me in the most admiring and intimate way. Yes, we are both hopelessly romantic admirers of each other.
Will our spark fade? Well, it hasn’t faded for us yet. And I don’t think it will. We both embrace the opportunities that keep this part of our relationship alive because it matters to both of us.
Even on the hard days, when he’s grumpy and I’m stressed, and flying conditions for Cupid just aren’t at an all-time high. Even with a furrowed brow, he is still jaw-droppingly handsome. And despite my more-often-than-not sloppy ponytail and make-up-free face, he still finds me sexy.
Sure, we could let life overrun those carefree feelings of young love. Finances, homework, and flat tires could cloud our days so we lose sight of the lover right there with us. But we don’t want to forget who we fell in love with. We don’t want to forget that under the facts of daily life, there is a man who is still the same Victor, and a woman who is still the same Allison. We are still those same people who made each other’s hearts jump fifteen years ago. And I’m looking forward to the next fifteen years of our ‘young love.’
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