Friday, February 14, 2014

Opposites Attract

That blog title makes me think of an episode of "Maury Povich" where a significantly obese woman would be dating or married to a tiny bean pole of a man.. or vice verse, but that's not where I'm going with this. Where I'm going is down the path that brought me to my husband; my perfectly opposite of me husband.

As a child, I drew tattoos on my cabbage patch kids, I played with monster trucks, I wanted to be a Hell's Angel, I loved rock and roll, my favorite shirt had a bunny and a motorcycle on it and said "Bad to the Bone". In high school, I walked around my Catholic school campus in cardigans adorned with skulls, my shoe laces had skulls, I had an Alkaline Trio patch on my backpack (which is a skull), I pierced my tongue on my eighteenth birthday; I wasn't in the cheerleader group or the drama group or the preppy group; I hung out with kids that listened to punk and we'd go to shows practically every weekend. Once I got out of my Catholic high school, I started dyeing my hair every color of the rainbow, I had twelve piercings (all in or around my face), and I started getting tattooed; I felt like I was finally starting to reflect on the outside, who I feel like on the inside.

I never really dated in high school.. I had two boyfriends; one lasted for a month or so my freshman year and the other was toward the end of high school and I was dating that guy I mentioned in this post. That guy had stretched ears, tattoos, listened to the same music as I did. We went to shows together, got tattooed together and stretched each others ears a little bigger. Each boyfriend I had after that was heavily tattooed with lots of piercings, listened to punk or ska, was in a band; they were like me.. they looked like me and somehow they were all perfectly wrong for me. Each one never treated me well, killed any fragment of confidence I may have had, and obviously, did not end up being the one for me.

Now let's get to the good part.. the Rory part. I was living with this crazy girl for a few months in North Hollywood and I was looking for a new place to live. My living situation turned into a single white female sort of situation; she started getting the same tattoos that I had, started telling me I wasn't allowed to look cuter than her when we went out, and even cut holes in my clothes. She may or may not have stolen underwear as well.. I'll never know the truth about that one. I found an ad on Craigslist to rent a room in a five bedroom house in the San Fernando Valley. I remember that I replied to it because at the end of the ad it said "Respond if you're weird". Hello! My kind of people. I went and met Big Jeff and knew immediately I belonged in that house; though it was totally dingy and there was a nasty guinea pig in the house, something in my gut told me that it was right. I came back a few days later and met Rory.. little did we both know our lives would be forever changed. He walked in to the living room where Jeff and I were sitting and sat down across from me. The first thing I noticed were his shoes.. they were not Vans or Chuck Taylor's, they were New Balance. Then my eyes moved up to his khaki cargo shorts, then up to his paintball t-shirt, then up to his sweet baby face. I thought "this guy is cute, but definitely not my type" which was fine because everyone says not to shit where you eat (a nice way of saying not to be involved with roommates).

The first month that Rory and I were roommates, I didn't see much of him. He was working six days a week, going out with friends, playing paintball and volleyball, and I was seeing someone else as well; but when I did see him, he always made me laugh.. he was so incredibly kind to me and the other people we lived with. I remember our other female roommates car broke down on the 405 at one in the morning or some other ungodly hour.. she called Rory and he got up with no complaints to go rescue her. That was the first time I took notice of him in a different light. I found his selflessness so endearing and attractive. We started hanging out together every night and grew close pretty quickly. Though I had only known him for a little over a month, I felt like he was already my best friend. We made each other laugh and we felt comfortable when we were with each other; comfortable enough to have full on wrestling matches on our gigantic couch and comfortable enough for me to laugh and not scream when he accidentally spit gum in my hair while we were cuddling and watching a movie.

After we had been together for a little over a month, I shared the news while I was at Disneyland with my dad and his family. My step mom asked "How many tattoos does he have?" One. "How many piercings does he have?" None. "What color hair does he have?" Bald. Those questions she asked were very fitting to every other relationship I had been in; the answers would typically be "tattooed from the neck to the ankles", "several piercings", and "a (insert rainbow color here) mohawk".
 

Rory is the first man that I saw for who he really is first and then fell in love with that rather than pursuing someone for being tattooed and pierced like me. Rory did tell me that the first time he met me he thought "she's cute. I like her tattoos", but that is not why he fell in love with me.

When I reflect back on that day I first met Rory and how I didn't ever think I'd date him let alone be married to him because he wasn't "punk" or "alternative" or whatever you want to call it, I feel like an idiot. Just because someone looks a certain way doesn't mean they are your soul mate.. it took me many failed relationships to see that. I am so grateful I opened my eyes to see past the gym shoes and the dorky shorts and the awful total guy car he drove when we met (an infinity G35 with a super charger and a body kit. bleh), and really saw him. Though we may not have a lot in common, Rory is the most attractive, kind, and selfless man on the planet and I am so grateful to be his wife. I have grown to like the things he likes (I jumped out of a plane and went white water rafting with this man!), and he's grown to like the things I like. We introduce each other to new things, a new way of thinking.. we have been responsible for each others' personal growth and grow more grateful and in love with each other each day. He's my perfect opposite.

Happy Valentine's Day!

xo
-Ali

*photos by Ressull Salvi Photography**

4 comments :

  1. Thanks for sharing your love story :)

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  2. Ahhh!! I'm late to the game on this post, but so sweet! Yes exactly. I told my husband the other day "you are the most opposite of me of anyone I am close to". He took it as an insult but really it is a compliment. Sometimes I am blown away by how well we fit together because we are so different.

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  3. Love this!!! I thought the same thing when I first met Chris and saw his New Balances HAHA so funny. You two are adorable and I love a good love story.

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