You don't know this...

You don't know this... and you may never know.

But. Just before I met you, I almost died.

I was closer than I have ever been to ending my own life.

This was over a year ago, but it was only a few months before I met you.

I snapped out of that vision.

I was listening to a song I know well... a painful, powerful rendition.

And I saw all of it.

The gun in the drawer, the gun in my mouth, all of it.

I'm not there any more. Not even close.

For one, I sold the gun.

The darkness followed me … days that led into weeks that became months.

Then, you.

I met you.

And that one tiny message... "I want you to know I really appreciate you." That's ALL I needed.

The darkness went away.

I just needed one person to believe... to see the amazing inside me.

Just one.

YOU SAVED MY LIFE.

You don't know it and I don't know how to say it.

But, I'm writing it here.

Thank you.

First Love

I met my first love when I was 43.

Yes, I'd been with other women. Had met them, held them, made love to them... told them I loved them, heard them say it back to me.

But. No one. Not one single person moved me...touched my heart... like she did.

Not until I was 43 would I give myself fully to another person. Not until that day would I open my heart.

I hugged her when we met the first time...she embraced me in return.

The magic was just beginning.

I met my first love when I was 43.

In some ways, that is difficult to realize, hard to type.

But. That's what I happened.

I had given good parts of me, most of me, the love I knew how to give to others.

But to her, I gave it all.

To know I have that capacity...to know that CAN be done, it's a tremendous gift.

She's in my life again.

In a small but beautiful way. I'm rejoicing that she's there.

My heart still sings with each text from her.

I don't know what's next.

I know she taught me how to love...how to give.

I met my first love when I was 43.

I will never be the same.

Phone Call

One year ago today, I made a phone call.

I knew. I knew before I made the call what I wanted.

It had been almost exactly 20 years since I'd called a woman for the purpose of securing a date.

Sure, I'd seen people, dated, even. But... to pick up the phone and verbally request that you meet me at a specific time and place with clear romantic intentions? It's now happened exactly twice in my life.

Yes, I knew what I wanted. But there was no way to know what would happen next.

I always like to know the ending.

I take great care to plan and think and factor and figure... so I know all the possible options and can choose the best path forward.

The only thing I knew one year ago was that I had to see you.

That I could not go one more day without asking to see you. That as soon as you were available, I wanted to look into your eyes and hear your voice.

Here are my great fears: Heights. Snakes. The phone.

Sure, I call people when I absolutely have to and it can't be avoided. But, texting has enabled me to avoid LOTS of calls and to set up meetings and dates without having to endure the phone.

Still, I wanted to hear your voice... I wanted to ask you one thing and I wanted (badly) for you to say yes... and I knew that if you said yes to me over the phone, you'd be there.

So I called. And we talked. And I asked...and you said yes, that you had time the next day. We could have coffee.

That day... one year ago … began the longest period of complete happiness I've ever experienced.

Our coffee date was... amazing. And, the rest was incredible. And, sure, it ended. I know why. It wasn't harsh or cruel or mean... it was necessary, however painful.

I will forever remember that phone call, every single word of it.

I still cannot believe it happened...and I still cannot believe you said yes.

Everything after showed me a peace, a happiness, a pure acceptance that I did not know was possible.

I love you. More than I have ever loved before. More than I will likely ever love again.

And it all began with that one phone call one year ago.

Wedding Day

You wore a long, flowing white dress. Simple, clean, long... accentuating your height. Your hair pinned back at the sides with flowers. Your feet bare, and still taller than me.

You looked down as you walked, shy, quiet, heart beating fast.

I could not stop smiling.

The day was cool, the grass still moist from morning dew.

The view... the hills... the valley below.

The few gathered with us. A small circle of friends and very select family. No more than 20 all told.

THIS. This is the day I've waited for … every single day of my life was getting ready for this day.

My path... like an ancient river, snaking through a thick forest. Twists, turns, slow movements, fast currents over jagged rocks.

Your path was more direct... not without bumps, but … more certain.

I still... still can't believe I even made a mark in the book of your heart.

Here we are.

Our wedding day.

Our promise to each other.

Our beginning.

I let you down ...

Before I even knew you, I let you down.

I made choices. Lots of choices. But the main choice: I accepted "good enough me."

There is a person inside me … the man you saw I could be … but, I was too comfortable, too complacent to claim him.

I knew. At some points, the pain was too much, too strong. And I thought: I'll do THIS now. But, I put it off.

And... life was good enough.

Sure, there was that time on a work trip when I cried after getting off the plane because I knew what could have been, what could be … if I would just... but, well, I didn't.

The irony in this is that I shouldn't even have been where I was when I met you. Had no business there. Being in that place was part of "good enough me." The part that didn't deserve what we had, if only briefly. So, there I was. And, there you were.

But … here's the thing: Because I accepted "good enough" for so long, I wasn't ready. I was in no position to ask you what I did on that last night.

But I asked. And you didn't say no … not right away.

But, of course, you did. Anyone would … I'd tell 100% of my friends to walk away if someone asked what I did. And I LOVE you... so, walking away was the right thing... for you. And, well, for me.

Because you walked away, I was forced to deal with "good enough me."

Fuck good enough me.

I don't know... I don't know how to articulate how much I'd give to have dealt with this ANY time before the day we met.

I never knew there was a you.

I've met so many people in so many places and had so many fulfilling encounters, relationships, etc...

NOTHING comes close to this... to what we had... what we both saw we could have.

But … I let you down. Before I knew you.

I promise this: I'm better .. and I'll be 100% open with you going forward, just like I was then.

I would bet on my life that you will never find a man more committed, more devoted, more all-in with you than I am.

Here's what that means: I want you to be happy. Period.

That doesn't have to be with me... I had accepted good enough for so long … and you deserve better.

I fully accept that there's someone out there who will be committed to you, who will be living his best life, and who will embrace you.

Will he be as "all-in" as I am? I doubt it … but, you deserve that happiness of being wanted by a man who has all his things in order.

Had you said yes that night, I'm not sure I'd be here now … truly, you gave me the most beautiful gift -- the desire to get my shit together.

I will forever be here for you. In any way you need. Not desperate, not weird or creepy. Just here.

You gave me a gift greater than anything I've ever received.

And the only way I can repay you is to be 100% the man you saw inside. If you never want to be with me as more than friends, I understand. Just know that I know... and promise me you'll never accept "good enough" for yourself.