My boyfriend Matt and I have known each other for a couple of years, but officially started dating last October. There were a few things that he said and did when I was battling cancer that made me fall for him. The first was after I shaved my head before starting chemo. He made a point of telling me that he thought I was cute bald. Of course, I didn't believe him, but it was nice of him to say so.
As my journey continued, Matt wasn't afraid to actually talk about cancer, or the fact that it affected my reproductive organs. Most of my guy friends disappeared when I went through surgery and chemotherapy. My own brothers left my hospital room when the surgeon said the word ovary. I know many men are wired differently than women when it comes to dealing with illness and death. But Matt had no fear. He asked questions, he checked in on me, he offered to help in any way he could. He'd offer to take me to lunch, or bring me food, but always understood if I wasn't feeling up to it.
In late June, as I was gearing up for my final round of chemo, he sent me a picture of a bike. An avid cyclist, vice president of a mountain bike club, and bicycle shop manager for many years, Matt came in contact with a lot of bikes. So at first I didn't get why he was sending me a random photo. As it turned out, the bike was for me. He made it. If I hadn't been going through chemo and my brain wasn't in a perma-haze, I probably would have figured it out sooner. Matt was not so subtle about asking me bike-related questions. Nonetheless, I was at my aunt and uncle's house when I got the picture message and my cousin Alisha suggested I date Matt. I recall explaining to her that we were just friends, and her matter-of-fact "so what" response.
At summer's end I started to feel good again, and I started to spend more time with Matt. We went out to eat, we went to movies, we went for walks. We talked a lot. We had a lot of deep conversations. During one of our conversations, I shared that I was sad because it seemed that I would never feel like myself again. Matt said the nicest thing. He said he talked to a friend whose wife had been through chemo. He said he knew without a doubt that I would feel healthy and happy and whole again... soon. His words touched my heart. He had talked with someone who had been through a similar journey because he wanted to better understand what I was going through, and to offer his support and love. It overwhelmed me. A few months later we decided we should "date" but looking back, we were sort of dating the whole time. Granted, we never even made it to first base, but we were getting to know each other--really know each other.
Matt and I still have a lot of deep conversations, and the time when we are sharing who we are, and discovering what we might become, is my favorite time together. The other day, we were having a discussion about how I tend to make decisions quickly and act on them, and Matt takes more time to think through things and weigh out all the options, before he makes a decision. I wondered how it would be possible for two people who were so different in this way not to drive each other crazy. Would I become annoyed every time he discouraged me from diving into something without first considering what could go wrong? Would my pushing him to take risks and follow his gut instead of his head always get on his nerves?
Once again, Matt's words touched my heart. He said, "Chris, you take big gulps of life, and I take tiny sips. But that doesn't mean one tastes better than the other." And he was right. Either way--whether you gulp it, or sip it--life is really good.
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