They were playing ping pong in a bar – he paddling furiously and
jumping around the table as if engaged in a serious battle, and she
calmly standing in one place, neatly moving her paddle from side to side
without much of a fuss.
From a distance, it looked almost as if she was disinterested, and he
the clear master of the game. In five minutes, it was all over. They
walked back to their seats without a word.
“Who won?” I asked.
“I did,” she said, calmly.
She was neither delighted nor upset, and he didn’t appear terribly
dejected, nor did he look surprised. It seemed, almost, that this had
happened before. Or, perhaps, it happened all the time.
When I asked her later, she verified that I was correct in my assumption.
“Ryan is very dramatic,” she said, taking a sip of her soda. “But I play the game.”
After knowing Denise for nearly two years, I can see this is true.
Only the game she refers to isn’t really a game at all. It’s her life.
And she plays it well.
But then, so does he. Together, the two make one amazing team.
They met at summer camp when they were 12. She was the shy bookworm
and he was the gregarious charmer every girl pined after. One look and
she was hooked. But she was not about to vie for his attention. For the
next two years, she’d watch countless girls at camp write, “I love Ryan”
on the bathroom walls. One girl even slept with a photo of Ryan next to
her bed. “Don’t you think Ryan and I make a great couple?” she cooed,
gliding her fingers across the frame. All the while, quiet and steady
Denise was secretly fuming inside.
The next day, he had an important choice to make. Junior high
pandemonium had set in, and the girls at camp were descending like
vultures.
“He’s so charming and outgoing, so every girl automatically assumes
he’s in love with them,” Denise says, noting that it’s an issue even
today. “His personality is part of what I love about him, and I don’t
blame others for loving those same parts of him. But I had to let him
know it was not okay with me to flirt with every girl around. Not if he
wanted me.”
And so, at 14, Denise did what most women never learn to do – she
refused to compromise her principles just to appease someone of the
opposite sex. She respected herself far too much. It was either her all
the way, or none of her.
And he chose all of her. From that moment forward, at the age of 14, he chose her. And he never looked back.
Their love was never simple, however. There were challenges early
on. It was difficult enough when they lived two hours apart in Maine,
but when he moved to Florida to live with his mom, the relationship was
flailing out of control.
Then there was the marriage. They were both in college, and lived off peanut butter and jelly sandwiches the first few years.
When they decided to move across the country from Maine to Seattle,
they had to fit their entire lives in the back of a Jeep. They stopped
along the way. She took pictures. They camped. She wanted to rip his
head off at times. They were grumpy and tired. She had no job lined up.
They had only a few hundred dollars in their bank account.
They were so young.
But here they are. They are older, but for them, the struggle isn’t
close to being over. They are barely into their mid-20s. There is growth
yet to be done, and mistakes to be made. But not even that reality
fazes them. They will do what they always do – face whatever shows up
together.
There is a quiet confidence to their love. It’s one of the most
remarkable things I’ve ever encountered. I look at them both, and I
know, with certainty, that they’re going to make it. And somehow, this
makes me really happy. It’s some of the clearest evidence I’ve ever seen
that a truly solid relationship can withstand all the bumps in the
road, all the growing pains, all the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches
and all the states between Maine and Seattle, so long as the people in
it are committed to the same things.
Denise and Ryan certainly are.
When I ask Ryan how he knew, all those years ago, that Denise was it,
he admits he didn’t know that. Not in the beginning, at least.
“She was all in at 14,” he remarks, “and I was easily distracted by
female attention. I think once I got over the female attention part of
it, I realized that Denise loved ME (every bit of me), and I loved
Denise (every bit of Denise). After my hiatus of flirtation and cheesy
relationships, I chose to commit to the woman I could see building a
life with. She makes me a better person and encourages my personal
growth as a human. I think I realized this at a certain point and it
drove my desire to commit. She woke me up through her honesty (and
sassiness!). I think it was instinctual because of how she regards me.”
That honesty (and sassiness!) is perhaps their saving grace. Because
they’re vocal about their feelings, and air out their laundry on the
spot, they have developed successful coping mechanisms people twice
their age have often failed to master.
“It was tricky getting married with no money, while still in college,
so we basically had to learn life skills together,” Ryan admits. “I
think the fact that we don’t harbor things helped us to learn to be
there for each other. The first year we were married was no picnic, but I
am thankful it was hard. It gave our relationship character and
strength. Do we still want to rip each other’s heads off from time to
time? Yes. But that is the beauty of relationship. You take the good and
the bad.”
He takes it with great appreciation. How could he not? He knows about
evolution. He knows that what happens between the ages of 14 and 24 is
only a tiny window into what happens in a lifetime. And he’s so darned
excited to watch the story unfold.
Like the part about how he finds himself loving things about Denise
he didn’t even realize before. And how she’s so kind and giving, and
basically how he doesn’t have enough time to tell me all the things he
loves about this woman.
And so I tell him to stop. That I’ve heard just about enough. And I
have. Because now my cheeks hurt from smiling so much. And I have a
newfound appreciation for love stories. And I want to write more. And so
I begin.
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