It was a dusty, cool day in Colorado Springs as I attended graduate school. I was celebrating the impending freedom as I detached myself from my soon-to-be ex. We had been experiencing issues throughout our 15-year marriage, spending about 8 of those years separated. I acknowledge that the fault lies with both of us, but life was changing, and I welcomed that change.
The executive briefing center at graduate school made me uneasy. I was in survival mode but couldn’t help but notice the young ladies in the class, despite being in my mid-thirties. However, I knew the rule: do not get involved with fellow students. There was a girl at the bookstore who caught my eye, along with a few others who seemed compatible.
One of them, rumored to be getting a divorce and spreading her wings, caught my attention. After chatting, I learned she had been dating, but I wasn’t interested in playing the game of pickup lines. I was straightforward and honest. I believed that the superficial dance between a man and a woman was a waste of time. So, I asked her out to dinner. She admitted she was still married but had been spending weekends here and there. I confessed that I was living in a box behind Walmart. It seemed like a match made in heaven.
Somehow, we began to know each other. Nothing serious at first, as she continued to date, but we enjoyed dinners together. Eventually, I asked her out on a proper date. She set some ground rules—nothing serious, just fun and companionship. That was fine with me. We were both free agents, ready to have some fun. And indeed, it was a lot of fun.
Six months later, she cut off all the other suitors, and we started spending a significant amount of time together. I found myself in her new house’s master bathroom, helping her move in. I was about to graduate, but she was upset with me. I had completed my graduate degree in just 9 months, but it affected my final grades, preventing me from achieving an “A” average. She stated that marriage was not in her plans, no deep commitments. In response, I informed her that I would have to return to Seattle. I had a job waiting for me there, a place to live, and my divorce proceedings were nearing completion. I was ready to try my luck in the land of grunge and coffee.
However, she was uncertain. We had known each other for 9 months at that point, not a long time, but enough to alter plans. I knew that my departure would hurt her. She was smart, fun, sexy, and loved adventure. Yes, she had two children who were furious that I had played a part in their parents’ separation. I always laughed because I knew I wasn’t the first or even the third person Sydney had dated after separating from her ex-husband. I’m sure her ex-husband assumed that a hot, blue-eyed, petite, athletic, sexy blonde wouldn’t have any options or exercise them.
We sat on the step up into the tub for a while, both upset. But I was the one who remained composed. I told her that I was unlike anyone she had ever met before. I respected her decisions, but she had to respect mine as well. If we were just playmates, it would be difficult, but I had to leave. If she wanted to commit, then I would stay for her. She chose for me to stay, and six months later, we got married.
I assured her that our life together would be fun and an adventure. We have lived in various states such as Colorado, Indiana, Virginia, Georgia, and Florida. We have traveled to Europe and Asia, ridden a motorcycle through 30 states (even though we crashed once), sailed along the eastern seaboard and in the Bahamas, and driven cross country countless times. We have dined in 5-star restaurants in major cities and discovered hidden gems in small towns no one remembers. We have faced the challenges of a high-risk pregnancy with twins we didn’t plan for, survived cancer, and now, multiple sclerosis. We travel and find joy in every sunset.
I faced numerous accusations throughout our journey. People claimed I was robbing the cradle, but she is older than me. They accused me of breaking up a family, but I was far from the first person she dated, nor was I there when she separated. Some even called me a con man, yet I divulged everything, even the details that made her blush. I was accused of abandoning my ex-wife, who despised me and spread that sentiment to everyone. And yes, I’ll own up to being a monster—the embodiment of what people today refer to as toxic masculinity.
But what those accusations revealed was a lot about the people around us.
I will always remember the skeptical look she gave me when we arrived home after our small yet enjoyable wedding. We exchanged glances, and I told her, “It’ll be fun. It’ll be an adventure.” I didn’t promise her it would be easy. I didn’t promise to worship her. I didn’t tiptoe around the truth. You can’t have an adventure without adversity, and all the worthwhile things in life require some adversity.
For the past 24 years, Sydney, it has been a loving adventure. I hope for hundreds, if not thousands, more years together, but if that’s not possible I’ll cherish every single one that brings us closer to that goal.