Lessons in History: + Kenny = Four

I didn't mean to start dating Kenny. Really, I didn't. In Dallas, I had met and dated a few that I thought had turned me off of the whole species. I was done with dating and men and whatnot. At least for a little while. Let's face it. I didn't have the best track record. I was much better off being single. That was the plan.

Kenny and I knew each other for years. I actually first met him through my ex-husband way back in high school. The memory is clearly in emblazoned in my mind. Kenny has no recollection of it. Maybe because he was drunk. I had no clue who he was at the time, and I immediately began making fun of his drunkenness. That is until Kris informed me I should probably shut my trap, considering we were at Kenny's house. Apparently it isn't polite to make fun of the host. Or something. Obviously, we didn't become good friends then, but our paths would continue to cross over the years in college (or actually, mostly I hung out with his girlfriend) and later through work.


I came to Houston often. At least once a month to see my friends. It was a birthday party that brought me to town the time I got Kenny's number. I invited my friend Matt, who invited Derval, who randomly had just started working for Kenny. Soon enough Kenny had joined our group that night. By the end of the night I had his number. You know. For work. No really. For work. But we also became friends that night.

I planned to stay for a full week over Christmas. The kids would be gone. I would have a week of freedom in Houston. Kenny, being ever so polite (it had nothing to do with trying to get a girl to spend the night with him...no way), offered to let me stay at his house instead of paying for a hotel the whole week. It was the perfect plan. He had a whole house to himself. He insisted it would be no problem. I would save a lot of money. He failed to mention that John had moved in, leaving no spare bedroom. Yeah. He didn't plan that one.


I never even saw it coming. I thought we were horribly mismatched. Here he was living the ultimate single guy life style, going out to bars with the guys, travelling, staying up late. His house was the house were everyone gathered. On any given Friday or Saturday there were bound to be groups of people sitting around in the garage or out back. We had talked before about how he had never even really been around kids. He had made jokes about how he wouldn't even know how to talk to a kid. We lived in two different worlds. So it never even crossed my mind that he would be someone I could or would date.


Honestly, I don't even know how it happened. Or when. Maybe from the first moment I walked in the door? But we were just together. I don't know that we ever even discussed it. It just happened. And I knew after that trip and the time I spent with, not only Kenny but, all of my friends that week that I needed to be back in Houston. I would miss my family, but Houston was my home. I was a different person around the people I went to high school with. I was confident and happy. Relaxed. Sure of myself. I hadn't been that girl in years. I needed to be back home.

And so I moved. And Kenny and I became inseparable. And I couldn't ask for a better person. He has never once complained that his bachelor life has been taken over by field days and ballet classes. He comes to doctors appointments and surgeries (even the ones that are four hours away) and school activities. He immediately seemed better at this whole parenting thing than I ever was, knowing just how to talk to Jill to calm her down, making me structure the kids' routine more, arranging family dinners, and taking time off of work to attend every event for the kids.


By the end of a year in Houston, it seemed stupid to continue to pay for two homes. His roommate had long since moved out, and the spare room converted into a room for the girls. Flowered bedspread, matching walls, and all. We stayed weekdays at my house, so that I could walk Jill to the bus. On the weekends, we stayed at his house. We found a home not far from where we currently lived, and moved in together. We have lived together for a year and a half now. And? I really think he might be damn near perfect.


Sure, he does things that annoy me. Really, why can't he put his cups IN THE DISHWASHER? And am I the only one that sees the mountain of laundry (although, my boycotting the laundry has really helped with this!)? But, if that is my biggest complaint, I really don't have much to say. He is nice to almost everyone, because he believes that you never know when someone will come back into your life. I have never heard him raise his voice, except when completely necessary. We have been together through some hard times, and yet, he managed to still be the same good person. He is a better person than I am. This much I know.


For a long time, I thought I would never get married again. Now I know I will. I am in no rush. But I am looking forward to it now.