***Posted along with Sprite’s Keeper’s Spin Cycle, the theme of which this week is “Saying ‘I Love You.'”  Swing by the blog for more of the lovey-est dovey-est posts on the internet.***

Poor Kyle and me, Circa 2006.

We’re standing under a tree blanketed with snow, in a mostly deserted park.  He stares into my eyes, his head turned slightly upward because—I won’t lie—I’m an inch or two taller than he is.  He holds my face in his large, calloused (just the way I like ’em!) hands, and gently pulls me closer to him.  Then, just as we’re about to kiss, he pauses to look around.  Spotting a mound of packed snow a few metres away, he takes my hand and relocates us, perching himself on top; he’s achieved a more desirable height ratio—perfect.  Time in.  He cups my face in his hands, pulls me gently closer to his lips, but just as I’m sure we’re about to kiss, he pauses again, this time more dramatically than before.

“I love you,” he whispers, and the words are gold to me.  I melt into a slushy puddle of romantic mush at his feet.

And then I wake up. Did you honestly believe me?  Did you really think that’s the way Poor Kyle and I first declared love for each other?  Suckah.

In all actuality, I was the one to tell Poor Kyle I loved him before he ever said it to me.  And guess what?  It was awful. Figures, doesn’t it?  Nothing in my life has ever been a picture-perfect fairy tale.  I suppose I can’t complain, because everything still worked out in the end—I’m with the man I was meant to marry, and we’re a team, like Mulder and Scully—but really, my romantic dream world has basically been just that: a dream world.

I’ve written the long version of how Poor Kyle and I met and subsequently ended up together, which you can read here (if you dare), but I didn’t go into detail of The “L” Word Day.  Inasmuch as Poor Kyle was the first—and only—boy who ever heard the words “I love you” uttered from my lips, it’s really the only good story I have to add to the Spin Cycle.

We had only been dating for four months, and I was young—I knew I was young.  I made it so hard for Poor Kyle (hence his epithet, “Poor Kyle”) to win me over.  Even after I decided I loved him, it was almost two years before we got married.

Wait—I’m getting ahead of myself.  I really want to share the story of how the word “love” first entered our couples’ vocabulary, but nobody could tell it better than myself three years ago, since I kept a very detailed (and when I say “very detailed,” I’m not kidding) journal.  I think Old Me will do the story justice better than Present-day Me, so I’ll go ahead and turn the time over to me:

Taken Word-for-Word (minus slight editing of the boring parts) From The Original Archives of My Life (or in other words, one of my journals), dated 16 January, 2006

16 January, 2006

HUGE!  MONUMENTAL!  Today, for the first time in my life, I told a boy I loved him.  Kyle, of course, and I should stop calling him a boy.  Except if he’s not a boy, then he’s a man; and if he’s a man, then I’m a woman; and that is frightful.

…When I’m not with him, I’m thinking about what we’ve said when we were together, or thinking about what to say next time I’m with him…

…He treats me so perfectly.  Like a piece of fragile china, only not in the “baby” sense.  Just…almost…cherishing.  That sounds incredibly corny, but I mean it.  He can be so intense sometimes, and it amazes me.  The way he plays with my hair, or rubs my hands, or when we walk into buildings and he rests his hand on my back.  Yet he’s not restraining in any way…

…I can’t count the times he’s said, “Camille, I’ve never met anyone like you.  You are wonderful.  Amazing.  I can’t find any faults with you.  You’re perfect.”  Of course I’m not, but it doesn’t matter to him…

…So when a person treats me with that much love and sincere respect, it’s only natural that I spare more than just a few thoughts for him each day, right?

…Tonight he picked me up, and after dinner, we decided to drive down to the river bank.  Once there, we parked the car and talked {we really did just talk} for at least an hour.  Finally, our conversation wound down, and I got totally lost in my own thoughts.  I thought about everything, and he let me have the silence I needed.  I thought of my mom and dad and Adell, of Arizona and Filiberto’s.  I thought of my friends, who are small in quantity, but huge in quality.  I thought of Mesa and orange blossoms and my green bedroom and Westwood and Krazy Sub™ and my cousins.  I thought of America.  Arizona.

And then I thought of Kyle.  And I prayed.  And when I opened my eyes, I wasn’t scared or anxious anymore.  I was content.

Unfortunately, by the time I figured myself out, I’d been quiet for a while, and Kyle was getting bored.

“Well, where should we go now?” he asked, but I had just then gathered courage for my grand announcement, so I ignored his question and asked one of my own…

“Kyle,” I asked, “did you know…that…I think I love you?“

He looked at me, totally shocked, like he couldn’t believe I would choose then, there, that very minute, to profess my love for him.  He didn’t say a word.  My heart started beating hard, harder than before, when I was trying to work up my courage to tell him in the first place.  I started to blush—this was getting awkward…

To Be Continued…

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