He made me a priority – called when he said he would, and even when he didn’t say he would. Always had time for me – always MADE time for me.
We did nothing, we did everything. We went to dinner, we went to breakfast, we went to the gym, we went to the movies. We went to San Francisco, San Diego, Winter Park, Vail, Breckenridge and a billion places in between. We saw Dave Matthews and Indigo Girls and Sting. He was a chef and I loved to watch him make dinner, concocting delicious things out of whatever was in the fridge.
He taught me that being in a relationship wasn’t all about me. That I should want to take care of the person that I’m with but to also let myself be taken care of.
Valentine’s Day was a day for flowers, but so were Tuesdays or Wednesdays. He always remembered that I don’t like red roses and that I love Gerbera daisies.
I have the physical remnants of that relationship – a diamond bracelet, necklaces, clothes, sand from the beach in San Diego, matchbooks from our favorite restaurants. Memories.
Whenever I told him I loved him, he always said “I love you more”. And he did – he loved me more than anyone ever has and now I know what it’s like to be loved like that. He told me that I should always be with someone who loves me more.
And because of him, my standards are higher. I’ve had the kind of love I want and because of that, I know it’s out there. That’s why I always have hope. Even after all of the ridiculous excuses for dates I’ve been on in the two years since he and I broke up, I know that there is someone out there who will love me more.
I know because he loved me more.