May 8th marks the officiality of Dylan being a significant part of my life for six years. Where the fuck has time gone?
When we met, I was 25 to his 23. I was bartending to pay the bills until freelancing took off. He was figuring out what life looked like after the military. We chose to move cross-country four months into dating so he could follow his dreams of becoming a race car engine builder and designer. My job allowed me the flexibility to go with.
Today, I’m making my way through my 30s as a full-time freelance writer. Not only is Dylan a race car engine builder and designer, he’s teaching others to do the same. We own a house that we’ve filled with six rescue dogs. We are best friends, partners, and co-parents in this life we have made for ourselves.
There are few people who have had the impact he has on my life. He drives me absolutely insane. I can’t stand him, I love him, and I can’t imagine my life without him. Moving cross-country was a life altering decision. One that has allowed me to distance myself physically and emotionally from a past fraught with pain. He’s given me the security to chase dreams, travel, and figure out who I am. He’s held me through more anxiety/panic/PTSD attacks than I’d care to count. He listens to my endless fears of failure and mediocrity. He has watched me climb waterfalls; gotten up at the ass crack of dawn to see my smile as hot air balloons float over the mountains; held my hand through health issue after issue; raised eyebrows as I’ve danced around at 3:30 in the morning; taste tested many a new recipe; and so much more He’s been a rock through some really difficult years.
One of the things I admire and respect most about Dylan is his unrelenting respect and support as I figure out who the fuck I am.
When we started dating, I had been out of the closet as pansexual for five years. I wasn’t necessarily loud and proud, but I never let anyone call me straight. Over the course of four years, I would start embracing my sexuality more openly because I had someone who supported that journey. He took my pride pictures and high-fived me the first time I said I was gay. It took me a long time to even consider myself part of the LGBTQ+ community because I had always been in straight passing relationships, but Dylan pushed me to include myself because pansexual is valid no matter what kind of relationship I was in or had been in. Over the past two years, I have been coming into my identity more and more, searching out community and relationships I would never have before. Partially because I’m an introvert. Partially because I hate change. Partially because of so many other things.
So often when a person comes out, we lose people. Friends, family, partners. Especially partners. They don’t usually stay, let alone support the journey. That’s not my story. Dylan stayed. He continues to stay. He was the first person I told when I decided to start calling myself a lesbian. When I decided to get the rainbow and lesbian flag colors tattooed on myself, he was the first person I showed. I would not say it’s been easy for him nor should it be, but he has never wavered in his desire for me to be happily, authentically myself.
I am so incredibly lucky to co-exist with a man I have spent six years with, building a life and a family. We are not traditional by any loose definition of the word, but we’re figuring it out. The one thing we do know: We love each other deeply, support each other eternally, and will always be there for one another.
To the man who has allowed me the safety, freedom, and unconditional love to be myself exactly as I am: I will die loving you. You’re also a huge fucking pain in my ass, and I would not change a single thing about our journey. I’ll see you at home, gingey.
