I took Matthew there one day, to show him Camelot, and the trees, and how crazy it was that you could be that close to a busy freeway and still feel like you were in the middle of a (very small) forest. I really liked it there.
At this time, Matthew and I were not dating. We were very firmly in the 'friend zone,' with him dating other girls while we were just very good friends, after him making the comment once that his wife "will never touch the checkbook." (That shows you how old we are--checks were how you did the buying of things.) I wasn't interested in that kind of misogynistic control, so I wasn't upset that he was dating other people while still being my really good friend, because other than the checkbook thing, he was a really good, intelligent, handsome guy and we had a lot in common. (To be fair to Matthew, he doesn't remember ever saying that, and when we did get married, that was not his approach to our finances. To this day, we don't know how I heard him say that or why I would make it up if he didn't. But that was the state of affairs at this point in our relationship.)
So, Camelot.
I wanted to explore the field on the other side of the irrigation ditch, but I have a thing about walking on logs over water. I don't like it. I can be in water (I grew up in Oregon swimming in rivers all the time) and I can walk on logs on the ground (there are a lot of logs in Oregon to walk on). But you put a log over water, especially dirty water that I can't see through even though I know it isn't as deep as I am tall, and I will break out in heart palpitations and a queasy stomach.
I wanted to get to the other side, but I couldn't.
Along comes Matthew with this brilliant idea. We could scoot across on our butts. Not only that, but he would go first, facing backwards, so that I could focus on him, looking at his face, instead of the water below.
I was stunned. And touched. And a little bit twitterpated. Not only did he not tell me to get over it, he didn't even tell me I could scoot across while he did the manly thing and walked. Add to that, there was a four-year-old boy in cowboy boots and shorts that had been running full tilt back and forth on this log while we had been standing there, and once we started scooting he stood there and watched us like we were insane. "Are you scared?" "Can't you walk across? I can." "I can run." He wasn't exactly making fun of us, but he wasn't wasn't making fun of us either. And Matthew never acted embarrassed, never told the kid to go away, never really even acknowledged him. Just kept his eyes on me and told me to keep my eyes on him.
And that was when I fell in love with Matthew.
When we got to the other side, I found out that the supposed field was really a gateway straight to mosquito hell. I have never in my life had so many mosquitos land on me at the same time. Ever. I couldn't slap, shake, or scream them off of me fast enough. There were always more right there, doing their darnedest to suck me dry. So as soon as we could get the four-year-old to stop proving to us how easy it was to run across the log in cowboy boots, we scooted back.
The next day I went back to Camelot alone. I didn't tell anyone I was going. This was something I had to do for myself. And I walked across that log. Walked, not scooted. Several times. Somehow, Matthew allowing me to be afraid meant that I didn't have to be. Giving me permission to be flawed made me want to be better.
And that was when I fell in love with Matthew really hard. Which coincided with me no longer being okay with him dating other girls. Which is a whole other story.
There's a reason this experience affected me so much I wound up marrying the guy. Before I met Matthew I had dated someone else. I even thought I was going to marry him. On one of our dates he tried to take me on a tram that would take us to the top of a waterfall. It was a very windy, blustery night and I was terrified (it's possible that I'm also not fond of heights in general, not just logs over irrigation ditches). He cajoled and cajoled and cajoled some more. I refused (I am capable of great stubbornness when needed). When he finally gave up and we left, he was obviously annoyed. When we eventually broke up, that night was one of his issues with me. I didn't trust him enough to go up the tram with him. Or, maybe, he didn't respect me enough to listen when I told him I was terrified? (In justification of my fear, I found out later that there was a gust of wind that night so strong it blew the glass floor up inside the tram and broke it. To be fair, the tram was obviously empty at the time, and there was a metal grating underneath the glass, so nobody would have fallen though anyway. But still.) (Also, for the record, though I am still not terribly fond of heights, I have been on that exact same tram with Matthew on a far less windy night, and with him on a tram up the side of Mount Etna, and another one through the redwoods. Either being in love makes you stupid, or Matthew makes me feel safe.)
When I was in my teens and early twenties, my ideal heroine was a woman who was so strong she didn't need any man. Her ideal man was someone who understood that and waited for her, respecting her strength without quashing it to convince her to come to him. Eventually she chose him, not because she needed him, but because she wanted him. I have learned a lot since my twenties. It is possible to live without a man. It is possible to handle your own checkbook and walk across logs all by yourself. I guess that means I don't 'need' one? But I have done so many countless things in my life because Matthew was there with me. Maybe I would have eventually made it to Wales on my own, but I never would have gone to Sicily, or Amsterdam, or Nassau, or Barcelona. When the car needed a new radiator I would have had to pay a mechanic to replace it instead of Matthew watching videos so he could do it himself (then replay that scenario with a dozen different things around the house and yard and cars...you get the idea).
Sometimes the hero isn't out slaying dragons, but fixing the car with an eraser so he can bring your boys safely home from the middle of the desert. (True story.) And sometimes you aren't the heroine you always wanted to be, but you're getting closer because he believes in you.
I fell in love with my hero in Camelot. It doesn't get better than that.
Happy anniversary, Sweetheart.
