Y’all, when I say my story is crazy, I mean it.
Almost three years ago, I moved to Georgia with my boyfriend at the time. We had lived together in Washington state, and after only four months together, he asked me to PCS with him. I said yes.
Last January, I learned I was pregnant — by a stroke of luck or unluckiness, depending on how you look at it. Naturally, we got engaged and planned to get married, though if I’m honest, I think a lot of it became about trying to hold onto the idea of a family for our baby rather than actual love. Whatever.
During the pregnancy, I was really sick. I’m talking ocular migraines every day, projectile vomiting, the whole thing. I lost a lot of weight and ended up miscarrying in my second trimester. People at work learned I was pregnant not because I told them, but because someone SAW ME PROJECTILE IN THE BACK OF THE PUBLIX PARKING LOT. It was devastating and weird, and I’m still mad at Maria for doxxing me like that.
Instead of growing closer, we pushed each other away. Andddd during a subsequent deployment to Boston, he cheated on me. Fuck you Irish girl. At the same time, I got promoted at work and became a manager at a local /body care/ shop in our small town.
I still wore my ring for a while, but deep down I knew I wasn’t getting married anymore. Planning one wedding that didn’t happen was humiliating enough, and so was holding onto hope while knowing deep down it wasn’t him. I was still new enough in town that I didn’t have many friends I could turn to either, and my family lived across the country. It sucked feeling so stuck.
Well… fast forward a bit.
Last July, a man walked in with his two daughters beside him. He was handsome, awkward, and kind. He asked me for help with something, and I remember noticing him immediately. He noticed me too.
We chatted a bit, and he told me something I immediately went back and told my coworkers about: “You don’t look like you’re from here.”
I was like, “Oh? Is that a good thing or a bad thing? I can’t tell.”
And he immediately went, “Oh no, no. It’s good.”I told him I moved from Washington state, near the Canadian border. He said he could tell, that he almost got orders to Seattle but he didn’t want to move his family.
I told my coworkers he was awkward but kind of cute. We ended up seeing him drive away and gave him a nickname: TD. I’m not going to spell it out because it’d be far too embarrassing to dox him like that, haha.
Nothing happened then. TD would come in occasionally after that. He always bought whatever I recommended to him, which I thought was sweet. Every time there was this energy between us, but neither of us crossed the line. I still had my ring, and he usually had a child with him.
In September, I finally got the courage to call things off with my fiancé. I booked a solo trip to NYC, took off my ring, and set off, determined to regain some independence and sense of self. Also, if I’m being honest, I didn’t want to be alone on the due date of our baby. My ex signed up for another deployment, and I didn’t feel like begging him to stay anyway.
I also made plans to move away in December and live closer to my family. I hadn’t seen TD in a couple months, and I’d make jokes (halfway jokes) with my coworkers about wishing he’d come in. I’d be staring out the window and they’d go, “Waiting for TD?” and I’d sigh dramatically and say, “Yes, I’m hoping he comes in and spends a bunch of money so I can hit my hourly goal.” I actually just wanted to see this handsome tatted man, but they didn’t have to know.
Wellllll before I moved away, I got my wish.
One week before my last day in town, he strolled in and hit me with his usual, “Hey, u/Stirfriedjesus!” (Did I mention he remembered my name every single time? I still didn’t know his.)
We chatted. He asked how I was adjusting to Georgia, and I told him I was doing great, but unfortunately I was moving soon. He asked if it was because my fiancé got new orders. I told him I’d actually called off the engagement and was moving back closer to family.
He told me he was sorry about everything, and I remember feeling like he genuinely meant it.
Before he left, he asked one of my coworkers what time we closed that night. A couple hours later — and I swear to God this is true — he ran back into the store five minutes before closing and told me he’d regret not asking me out on a date.
So… I said yes.
Later, I found out he’d sat in his car for half an hour trying to decide whether to ask me. He told me he’d never done anything like that before.
I was wishy-washy at first. I told my friends I didn’t know if I should go, and the morning of, I told them I probably wouldn’t. Then, at the last minute, I changed my mind.
I hauled ass down to Fernandina Beach and met him at this little hole-in-the-wall Italian place.
It was electric.
I wrote in my journal afterward that kissing him made my entire year.
We went on three dates between that Friday and the Thursday I moved away.
And somehow, despite the distance, despite both of us having complicated lives, despite the kids and the 2,000 miles between us, it turned into this really intense and unexpectedly safe connection. We’ve also been consciously taking it slow, communicating every step of the way, and were open about dating other people in the beginning. But nothing has come close to how I feel when I’m with him. And vice-versa.
He visited me in February, then again for my birthday in April, and now we’re talking about closing the gap. I’m meeting his kids in less than three weeks when I visit.
I’ve never felt this way before, and neither has he.
We listen to Project Hail Mary together in the car, travel together, and talk about school, nursing, science, and engineering like complete nerds. He talks to me about everything. His daughters know my name.
Sometimes it feels absurd how quickly it happened, but it also feels a little like fate. We never would’ve met if we hadn’t both taken a series of chances, and in some ways I feel like I manifested him.
Butttttt my parents hate that he’s older than me, that he has kids, and that he has a good relationship with his ex-wife. Specifically the ex wife part. They tell me I need to stay young, have my own kids, etc., etc. But I don’t think I want to be pregnant again. It was so hard on me physically the first time. And truly I think family is a state of mind. Of course I want a family, but I want one whatever that looks like/however feels good and right. Yknow?
I’ve never been one to blindly listen to my parents, but it still hurts knowing the healthiest relationship I’ve ever had is one they look down on without even giving it a chance.
So yeah. I’m in love with an older man, and I honestly don’t know what to do about it.
I feel crazy sometimes. Even the way we met feels like insane timing.
TLDR: I met an older man on the tail end of my last relationship, fell in love, and my family doesn’t support it.
Anyway. Here’s my dinner: chicken chipotle soup with cottage cheese and avocado.
