March is also a significant month for the H and me, and I am moved to tell a little tale about that. Scroll on by if you'd rather be spared the sentimentality.
It was about 18 years ago that I first met my husband at an IHOP in the wee hours after a showing of Rocky Horror. We didn't really move in the same circles much until the early 90's though, and a personal bond of friendship didn't really start to form until around '97 or '98. In March of '99, I left the girl I was casually dating to date him instead. (Incidentally, sorry, Dawn. I know it's rough to be dumped for a guy). We made a valiant effort to maintain some distance and treat it as a fling until sometime in April. We were driving up to see Steve and Donna in Baltimore when we agreed we'd be "a couple."
You hear people talk about how they grow to love their partners more and more as the years go by. Having had a lot of relationship disappointments in the past*, I never bought that notion before. But it's now been six years, and I swear I feel closer to Eric all the time. We don't engage in what you'd call "fighting" at all, because if we misunderstand or disagree, we just say so, and the moment passes, and in a matter of minutes we are at peace again.
We really do seem to develop a deeper understanding of each other as time passes. Our mutual enjoyment is aging beautifully.
I mention all of this, not to brag (well, not exclusively :) but because I remember how I felt about the notion of "Love" six years ago. Oh, how I loathed to even hear the word. It seemed like the cruelest kind of lie. I certainly would have liked someone to tell me a story like this then. Two people really can be committed to talking things through, and not hold onto any secret animosities or control fantasies. It's possible to be genuinely loving and to be absolutely on each other's side. It is possible to have an unconditional friend, partner and companion.
*I hasten to point out that most of my exs are terrific folks whom I continue to cherish as friends.