August 7, 2008

Lucky Squared

Warren and I met in 1989 when I was 20. A friend of his had offered to give me a ride up to Shoreline Amphitheater in Northern California to see the Grateful Dead. I had only just met the guy but he was a friend of a friend so I took him up on his offer. A couple weeks later I found myself in his tiny Hollywood apartment, just off the Sunset Strip, being introduced to my weekend traveling companions. Warren was one of them. Within two months we were engaged.

I'm just telling you this because one of the benefits of having no kids in the house is having your partner to yourself. It's not that we've done anything special--we haven't. But boy has it been nice to have time together, alone.

This morning, our last morning as a couple without Jerry, Warren said he felt like he was beyond lucky to have found me. Is there something beyond lucky? I asked. Lucky squared, he said.

This is the man who my mother only ever referred to as "Poor Warren" for the first fifteen years of our relationship. (She finally eased up when I started referring to my father as "Poor Dad".) This is the super organized, ultra prepared (if he were a super hero he'd be Ready Man), neat and orderly guy who somehow ended up with messy, disorganized, fly by the seat of her pants, always waiting until the very last minute to meet deadlines, me. It's amazing, really.

What's even more amazing is that we're still together. Between his long work weeks (the record is 106 hours in one week on Titanic) and our radically different lifestyle habits (I still maintain that living next door to each other--duplex, anyone?--might not be such a bad thing) we had a lot working against us. But a few years of heavy drugs--okay, it was marriage counseling but it cost just as much as a drug habit--and a more realistic definition of marriage (for me, anyway) helped us get through the rough patches.

What really saved us during the toughest years, though, was the fact that Warren never ever stopped believing we could make it work. No matter how much I kicked and screamed, no matter how despondent and infuriating I became, no matter how I wished we could just throw in the towel, he just wouldn't stop trying to make it work. It was pretty annoying, actually.

But now, here we are. Still together. Still driving each other crazy. Still in love. Can you guess what that makes me?

Lucky cubed.

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