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04:59:10 - 2001-02-12


I love my wife.

The word "love" is wrecklessly tossed around in today's society at an all too rapid pace.

I love Coca-Cola.

I love beef stroganoff.

But I TRULY LOVE my wife.

We met in 1986. If I've already told this story here before ... tough. Read it again.

I was the emcee at The Punchline Comedy Club here in town and she was a waitress at the club. Although I hung out regularly with the other waitresses ... I didn't know Susie.

At the time, I was deejaying in a club as well. I'd do my comedy act, have a drink, and then go deejay at the other club until closing.

One night, the waitresses were saying they were going to come out to my other club when they got off.

I told them to bring the blonde waitress with them.

She came out there with them, they walked up to the deejay booth, introduced me to Susie and I plugged her full of drinks.

I took her back to my apartment and tried to get lucky that night. We were both too drunk and it was getting late, so we didn't do much more than kiss a few times before we both passed out on my bed.

A week or so later, she moved in with me. And we've been together ever since.

You know ... everyone has their soul mate. I always thought that the world was so large with so many inhabitants that you could never POSSIBLY meet your designated soul mate.

I always said that everyone just settles for their #5,762nd soul mate. Because you'd NEVER find number one.

I was wrong. After 15 years of being together ... I know now. My soul mate has been right by my side the entire time.

We don't fight. Never have, really.

We had one "fight", which took place in front of her co-workers at a party. It's nothing I want to get into now, but I went home and wrote her a long letter that I was going to leave her because she had embarrassed me in front of a ton of people.

I slept in the second bedroom that night. She stayed up until almost dawn, writing me a long letter on how sorry she was, how much I meant to her and how much she loved me.

I still have that letter hidden in the back of my closet. I've never had to pull it out and read it again. For one ... it would be too painful to read and know that I caused her so much pain on one solitary evening of our relationship.

And two ... I just don't need to read it. She lets me know every single day how much she loves me.

In 1998, I suffered a small mid-life crisis. I thought I was dying because I had a cancerous-looking mole removed from my back. I told Susie that I thought I wanted a divorce. I didn't want to burden her with having to take care of me if I was dying.

She cried like a baby. I cried. There was just no way she could comfort me at that time. I was scared and just wanted to be alone for the rest of my life.

Suffice to say ... I didn't die. Nor am I dying.

We both went to marriage counselors which didn't do a thing for me. I didn't trust my counselor, nor did I think she was doing me any good, so I told her I was "healed" and never went back.

And I went to work at healing my marriage.

We've gotten through that mid-life crisis. It's a thing of the past.

And I love my wife more and more each day.

She understands me. She tolerates me. She lets me know when I'm right and when I'm wrong.

She's my best friend in the whole world. When it comes right down to it ... nobody else's opinion matters like hers.

She is my rock.

She is everything to me.

She gave me the cutest baby in the entire world and has already shown me that she will be so patient, loving and caring as a mother.

I think back of all the girlfriends I had before she came along. And while each of them had their redeeming qualities ... she beats them all.

Together we have grown and matured as adults. She was there when I was a drunken, immature loudmouth deejay, holding my head over the toilet so that I could vomit, making the smallest mess possible. And she's still here today ... never holding the fact that I was an out-of-control alcoholic/pothead for the first few years of our relationship against me. She was never a big drinker, and has only smoked pot a handful of times, just to appease me early in the relationship.

Today, I've traded in my days of drinking and drugging for a much happier and sober life. I truly love my church and its congregation and I have her to thank for guiding me toward that.

For the last five years, she went to church every Sunday and I attended once a year ... every Christmas Eve. She would ask me when or if I was ever going to join and I would tell her that I would join when I was ready to join.

When she became pregnant, to me, that was a sign. Jesus was alive and affecting my life.

I kick myself now for letting her go to church for five years by herself. I think about how hard that must have been for her ... each week going all alone, hoping that this might be the week I'd show up in the doorway of the church with a smile.

And I'd be sitting at home, surfing the net, letting her go alone.

I have so much love in my heart for this woman.

Last night, as I laid in bed, she hugged me and asked me if I still loved her.

My God.

How could I NOT love her??

She and my son are everything to me.

I write all of this because I just woke up from a horrifying dream where the house was on fire.

In the dream, I ran into Andy's room, pulled him out of his crib, ran back into our bedroom, busted out the front window of the house and pushed my wife and child out into the front yard.

Then I couldn't get out myself.

At first, I panicked.

But then I was at peace.

Because my wife and child were safe.

I woke up, scared to death, saw my wife and knew it was only a dream.

She has never seen this diary. She knows all about it and how important it is to me. But she has no interest in reading it.

So none of this will get back to her.

And for once, I'm not writing in this diary for the amusement of others.

I'm writing this one for me.

I love my wife.

And she loves me just as much.

And that's something that nobody can ever take away from us.

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