
My husband was once my brother-in-law. My husband's older sister's husband. Sounds shameless, I know, but it isn't. I remember the first time he came to see me...the first time after many phone calls. Neither one of us were sure of this decision to start seeing each other. It was strange, to say the least. I had recently separated from my husband. I had moved back into my parent's home. This man, whom I had gone on family vacations, whom I've always had a tremendous crush , whom I've never thought particularly liked me or knew I "existed", whom I would try to make laugh because he was always so solemn...was coming to see me. Me! He had been a groomsmen at my first wedding. He had been in the periphery of my family's existence. He was married (now separated) to my sister-in-law...who had always disliked me. How was I going to let my parent's know that this new man in my life was actually an "old" man...not in years, but in my past. Someone they knew in a totally different tableau. I finally worked up the courage to tell my Dad. He said...after not nearly as much drama as I was expecting...NO drama, to be honest...
"You can't choose who you love. It just happens. And when it's right...it takes your breath away".
Yes, it just happens.
There was a certain amount of courage involved in our new relationship. We had a lot of opinionated friends and family to overcome...or just ignore. I was reading People magazine. They have an article about gay marriage in NYC...I thought about my Dad and his words. We are going to NYC in November. I can't wait.