The lonely man

Today is mine and my wife’s seventh wedding anniversary.

The time seems to have flown past, though only when I think of her. The rest of my life has been a long slog, day after day. I was thinking about why that was, and I realised that it was because even though we have been together for so long, there is still so much to learn about her. Even if she told me all about her life, every day, there would still be thoughts and feelings and events from her past that I would never know, grain upon grain, building up into the bedrock of her life before we met. She’s a story I want to know, a mystery that I want to unravel.

We don’t have the same tastes, not at all. Her taste in music is the complete opposite to mine. Books? We both read quite a bit, but different genres. Films, the same (though we can agree on comedies more than others). Pass-times… well, let’s just say my nerdiness fills her with a boiling disgust. There are cultural differences (she’s from Japan, I’m from the Black Country. Yep, hers is better). We can’t always communicate everything in as much depth as we’d want (though she is a far better linguist than I). So why am I so happy?

It’s because she accepts all the differences, without a single thought. She simply accepts me, big, clumsy, forgetful, daft Jake. If we disagree, we compromise. She is never jealous. She never spies on me, nor I on her. We trust each other implicitly. We also share the most important aspects of our world views. We both value freedom, family, justice, security… and food. Oh man, the food.

I didn’t have a second thought about proposing after nine months of being together. Being with her was as comfortable as being alone, if that makes sense. Despite the fact that I’m very sociable, it’s a learned trait. I’m actually cripplingly shy. I find it hard to be 100% myself around anyone, except her. I feel myself around her. I don’t hate myself around her.

She doesn’t mind that I’m a soft spongey man who wants hugging more than she does, she will always be there for me. We can be silent together, and not feel the need to fill the room with words. She has taught me what it means to be a husband, and a father, and an adult (without having to lose the edge of creative fun that childhood brings).

She’s in Japan right now, with my two lovely daughters, and the fact only serves to make this anniversary all the more special. I’m now experiencing life without her, and it is cold, depressing, and despite the fact that I am seeing my family and friends more than I ever did when I was single, I’m unbelievably lonely.

She’s my best friend. She’s my love. She’s my little pumpkin seed.

I love you wifey.

(Please come home soon.)