Please be warned - Anniversary Post Follows!
If you're one of them cynical type peoples (I suspect this may be a good portion of my f'list) you might not want to keep reading. Extreme mushiness is on the way.
I don't talk about my relationship with Mitch very much because I know it would bore people to tears. Conflict is interesting to read about, and there is very little conflict between us. Naturally we have our moments of frustration and anger, but they are so rarely directed at each other personally (as opposed to something one of us might be doing at that moment) that they never seem to affect our relationship.
Despite the knowledge that reading about a good relationship is boring, I still want to write something today to celebrate our eight years together.
For those not in the know, a little background.
Mitch and I met in 1997, in a chatroom called 'Ninchat.' It was devoted to Nine Inch Nails, a band which we both loved. In that same chatroom I met several other friends whom I've stayed close to over the years, many of whom are here on Livejournal as well (and I still love you all!). In fact, as recently as this year I've made new friends who were also among the ninchatters of old even though we never met back in the 90's. But I digress.
Mitch and I quickly became firm friends after bonding over similar tastes in music, movies, books and philosophy. We also shared a similar absurd and often morbid sense of humour. At the time we met, Mitch was living in Townsville, which is about 18 hours drive north of where I was on the Gold Coast. Mitch was also dating a girl up there, and I was dating another lad from the same Ninchat site. Although my relationship with Tim (aka memnoch2, for any who remember him) only lasted three months, our break-up seemed to last for about nine. It was all very melodramatic, and during those nine months Tim got another girlfriend and I another boyfriend. Despite various sad and cruel things Tim and I did to one another, he still gave me two pieces of advice that changed my life.
The first was in reference to my then-current boyfriend, whom I felt quite apathetic about but dated through fear of being alone. Tim said, 'Stop wasting your time. Every minute you spend settling for a half-decent relationship is a minute you could be spending searching for someone who'll make you truly happy.'
At that time Mitch was just a good friend, and not someone that I thought of romantically. Even so, I dumped my boyfriend (a trial in itself - he liked to use tears as emotional blackmail) thinking that I'd prefer to be with someone like
Mitch. Tim was right (and very wise for a fifteen year old boy) - my relationship had just been a comfortable waste of time.
The second piece of advice was in reference to a freshly single Mitch, whom Tim was also a good friend of. 'He would be perfect for you,' said Tim, 'his personality, tastes, everything. He'd fit like a glove.'
To cut short the nine months of courtship that followed, Mitch and I decided it was love. Naturally it wasn't that simple or easy - in fact, the first time I told Mitch I was in love with him, he was silent for a long time, then told me he didn't want to hurt me. He disliked long distance relationships, and found the whole idea of internet dating weird. We didn't speak for six months after that, and only resumed contact when I told him I was going to Townsville for University. By that time, I'd matured a bit but was still sure it was love, and Mitch had realised he'd made a mistake in pushing us apart.
Before I moved to Townsville, I planned to visit and meet Mitch in person. We made a bet (about what I can't recall now), and the loser had to kiss the other upon meeting face to face. The theory behind the kiss was something to the effect of being able to take something away from the meeting even if we hated one another. I lost the bet.
When the time finally came to meet, I quite literally froze. I was sitting on a hotel bed with a friend who'd come for moral support, and I couldn't move. Mitch was framed in the doorway, smiling at me, looking slightly nervous. He walked over and said, 'wasn't there something you were supposed to be doing?'
I smiled. He leaned down and kissed me.
It was beautiful, perfect, the greatest kiss of all time.
After the kiss he hugged me, and I said the first and only thing I could think of.
'I love you, Mitch.'
He squeezed me tightly and said, 'I love you, too.'
Every day since then, Mitch and I have said I love you at least a dozen times. It never loses value or meaning for us, because it is always true. Mitch was and is everything I had ever hoped for in a partner. He's kind, generous, caring, thoughtful, sweet, attentive, faithful and loving. He even says I'm gorgeous first thing in the morning.
Last Saturday, after eight years, I was reminded of why he's such a wonderful partner. I went into his room for a chat and a kiss while he was on his computer. He looked at me with his loving, dark eyes and said, 'you are so beautiful, Krista.'
Just like that, for no reason at all.
That's the sort of man Mitch is. The sort that people dismiss as a myth - yet I'm lucky enough to call him my partner. He's my best friend as well as lover, a person I always want to hang out. He makes me laugh and smile, he always knows the right thing to say and he gives the best cuddles in the world.
I know that I am a very, very, very, very lucky woman, for I found true love so early in my life. And today, after eight years, I'm looking forward to the coming eight with great delight.
I hope every one of my friends (if any of you have actually read this far!) can some day find what I have found - if that's what you're looking for - and recognise it for what it is.
[Edit: I just wanted to add one of the few recent photos I have of Mitch and I - looking silly, as usual]