I knew a man once. You may even say we fell in love over a blog post I wrote about my life.
The story is full of twists and turns. We have fallen in and out of love more than once, at least the way I tell it. I have cried over him and screamed about him, as many times quietly as out loud.
I married this man once, or twice depending on how you look at it. Gave birth to his children and followed him half way around the world more than once.
The truth of the matter is at this point in my life I have spent more time apart from him than with him. I am not really sure I know him any more. Sometimes I wonder who this stranger is who shares my bed and my space.
I wonder if some day I will meet him again, the man I once knew, or if we have changed so much that we are no longer the same people who fell in love? I have to admit that after all this time I really do not know him. I know all the things about me that drive him crazy. But beyond that I am not sure there is much I know. I know that he does not know much about me.
It makes him crazy that I would drop my things on the floor at the end of the day. That I have a “custom life” when it comes to Starbucks. That I do not get along with his Mother and I want him to do something about it.
I can rattle off hundreds of songs he likes, but can not tell you the one he likes best. I can tell you about aircraft systems and more than any one should about what to do with issues after V1. But I can not tell you why he loves to fly.
The truth is he has become a man I once knew.