Anniversary – …on the B.L.

11… Memories We’ve Made Over Seven Years

May 8, 2023May 8, 2023 RaeAnna

Seven years ago today, Dylan leaned against my car and asked me to be his girlfriend. I said yes, thinking we’d have a summer fling. We did, but the fling just kept on flinging. I don’t think we could look back on our relationship and call it a fling. We’ve for sure progressed into pawtner territory, which is what we call each other because we are partners in parenting our doggos and in life because that’s just what happens when you build a home with someone.

There is no way I could have known that “yes” would involve moving cross country, starting a new career, adopting a dog, then fourteen whittled down to five more dogs, buying a house, and so many more things. Seven years is such a long time to intertwine lives with someone. It’s been a giant roller coaster. There have been good years and bad years and in between years. We’ve built a life and a family together. We’ve gone through so very much from traveling to moving three times to deaths to COVID to quarantine to not getting paid by the government for months to friend breakups to figuring out who we are to my health issues to so many fucking things, and I don’t hate him. Pretty sure he doesn’t hate me yet either. That’s a win.

Our family is about as far from traditional as we could possibly be, and yet we’re still here making it work every day. It’s not always easy, but we do our best, and most days, that’s good enough. After seven years, there’s not much I don’t know about him and vice versa. He knows me about as well as any human can. And on the bad days, he is the one I come home to and look to for comfort. He’s my best friend, support system, and pawtner.

We’d known each other fourteen days… I thought he was crazy and a saint.

People have never been something I take for granted. I tend to not believe people love me or want me in their life. It’s something I will probably always struggle with. One of the few things in my life I do not question: Dylan’s love for me and my love for him. It’s a choice that we continue to make. We choose to love each other, and that means more because I know his capacity for good and bad and he knows mine. He has had every opportunity to stop loving me, to stop choosing me, and he never has. In my life, that is a gift I do not receive lightly. It is a gift I will forever be grateful for.

Today, I’m looking back at some of my favorite memories we’ve shared. From the ridiculous to the sweet. We’ve lived a life together. I genuinely love our home and family; it means everything to me.

Thirteen days into knowing each other, we went out for my friend’s 21st birthday. I voluntold Dylan to drive. I got so trashed, I ended up peeing my pants and throwing up in his truck. The actual story is far funnier. I lost my underwear in his truck for seven months. I got cocky and mean and an overall shit-show. I woke up thinking I would never hear from this man ever again… I woke up to a text telling me how much he adored me and was grateful I wanted to be with him. So then I thought something was wrong with him… There is, but luckily for me, it’s thinking I’m great.
He loves race cars. It’s why we moved to Houston, but we always had so much fun going to the racetrack together that first summer. I loved watching him race and nerd out on all the things.
We moved to Houston with my clothes, his clothes, my mattress, my kitchen stuff, and that’s really it. The first month in our apartment we sat on a blanket in the middle of the living room. We moved with two weeks notice and almost no money. We were so poor, and we had a blast. (Holy fuck, look at us now. We have too much stuff.)
Adopting Beau was a huge step for us, and one of the best decisions he pressured me into. No regrets. Six and a half years later, she’s still our best girl.
He started cutting my hair when we moved to Houston because I’m too lazy to find a new hairstylist and make an appointment… He still does.
No one is as enthusiastic or supportive of my love of carousels. He hops on with me every time, so we can enjoy it together. Then he lets me ride it alone so he can make sure I get a picture.
During our 2018 trip to Steamboat Springs, Colorado, he let me get him up at 4:30 in the morning so we could watch the hot air balloon festival and the sun rise. It’s still one of my favorite memories.
We moved out of our one bedroom apartment into a bigger apartment in 2019, which allowed me the space to have my first office. Game changer. He pushed for the move, so that I could have the space since I work from home and have no escape.
He didn’t even bat an eye when he walked in the door one day in February 2020 to find a new and very pregnant dog in the house. He just kinda looked at me and went, “So we’re doing this?” And I was like… “It’s up to you!” So now we have six dogs instead of the one.
We bought a house. For the dogs. And ourselves. Mostly for the dogs.
How much he has loved and supported me as best as he can while I navigated my career, my dreams, my travel, my friends, my coming out story. At the end of the day, he is by my side and asks me to just be me because it’s enough.

Bonus

12. He made our home a safe space for me to be me and write what I want to write and feel all of my feelings. He has given me the gift of time. Time to heal and grow and discover and exist. He has shared my pain and joys and burdens and fears. He’s not perfect. Sometimes, he’s a real asshat. But he loves me fiercely, and all he wants is for me to be safe and happy and healthy. And we’re learning how to navigate what that looks like. We’re no longer 23 and 25. We’re in our 30s. We’re entirely different people, and we have found a way to love each other for who we were and who we’ve become. I hope to continue finding ways to love each other in all our variations to come. Because I can’t see my life without the man I thought I’d have a fling with.

Our first picture in our first apartment together.

This was the announcement picture when we rescued the puppies.

We had to announce buying a house with some Pride. I wasn’t an out lesbian yet, but I was a proud pansexual!

A month into dating… We were weird and still are.

In My Own Words, Lifestyle, So Gay

Six Years Can Change Everything, But We’re Still Here

May 10, 2022May 10, 2022 RaeAnna

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.

In My Own Words, Lifestyle

Due Date-Versary

April 4, 2020March 23, 2022 RaeAnna

If my body had done what it was supposed to five years ago, I would be throwing a quarantine birthday party for my five year-old son or daughter right now.

Instead, I’m cuddling my new babies. | Texas Shirt | Yoga Pants | Earrings | Chair |

Having children has never ever been a part of my life plan. Being a mother is not something I have ever craved. It has been something I’ve avoided like the plague. When I am sexually active, I obsessively avoid getting pregnant by using birth control and condoms. I’ve even gotten Plan B when condoms break because NOPE. I have enough money set aside to take care of problems if need be. I’m that kind of person.

I was that kind of person when I found out I was thirteen weeks pregnant in early fall of 2014. Miracles happen, I guess. It was too late to do anything about being pregnant. I was pregnant. I was going to be a mom. I was very much alone in my soon-to-be-parenting party. It hit me like a truck. I started planning and dreaming and getting excited because that was the only option, so I embraced it. Then, I had a miscarriage. I was mostly devastated. Relief came several weeks later as the tears slowed and the dreams faded.

As the years go by, the feelings are less poignant; the hurt is less sharp; the dreams are hazier. I still get sad. Sometimes, I even cry when I watch kids movies. Every once in a while, I think about what my life would look like had my body not failed at one of its main biologically female tasks. As ready as I was financially, in my career, and at that point in my life, I had never planned on being a mom. Five years later, my feelings have not changed: I’m sad and relieved. Those feelings can go together. You can be sorrowfully content with a miscarriage. You don’t have to have just one feeling. You are allowed to feel all the feelings whatever they are, no matter how at odds they may be with one another. It does not make you less of a woman. It does not make you less of a mother. It does not make you less of anything. It makes you a complex human, who is coping with a really difficult physical, mental, and medical situation.

Miscarriages are rarely talked about. That is starting to change as women speak about women’s issues more and more openly. Thank you to all the women on social media who are deciding to be vulnerable and honest about the crap we go through. When miscarriages are talked about, it’s usually about how overwhelmingly sad and painful they are. They are. I’m not going to lie to you about that. It’s true. It sucks. It’s sad. It’s the worst. There can also be some real positives coming out of miscarriages. They’re not apparent at first, but over the months and years as your mind and body heal, things start to look and feel better.

The majority of miscarriages happen because, for whatever reason, the body knows the baby shouldn’t come into the world for one biological reason or another. You can do everything right starting months before conception and still have a miscarriage. (Granted that was not me. Accident baby. Although, I didn’t really do much wrong.) Miscarriages happen. They happen for almost always good reasons. All babies are perfect, but not all babies are meant for this world.

Loving the babies I have on this sad day. | Texas Shirt | Yoga Pants | Earrings |

Positives of miscarriages differ from person to person. One thing I can say for everyone, the life we have in this moment is not at all the life we would have had had that baby come into the world. For some of us, that’s a bad thing. For some of us, that’s a good thing. For some of us, it’s just a thing. I have an incredible life. I wouldn’t change it for the world. I would, under no circumstance, have this life with a five year old.

I would not…

have the boyfriend I have now.
had the freedom to quit my corporate job, the stable paycheck, the benefits.
be a freelance writer and blogger.
be able to sit on the couch and do nothing for hours on end.
live in Houston.
travel as much or the way I do.
have Beau in my life.
have been able to pick Tess up off the side of the road.
have the time, energy, or money to take care of thirteen puppies.
have found or reconnected with my truest passions in life.
be chasing my wild, crazy, unrealistic dreams.
have the friends I do.
walk around pantless all the time.
read as much as I do.
stay up late doing whatever the fuck I want to whenever the fuck I want to.
have the body I do.
have a savings account with money in it specifically for travel (which happens often) and/or buying things I decide I need right now (which never happens, but it’s nice to know it’s there).
be me the way I am right now.

I have no idea what my life would look like had Paeton Rae been born. I know I would have a corporate job with good benefits and a salary high enough to pay for everything she/he/their needs and wants and for us to go on a family vacation once a year. I know there would be a bedtime, healthy snacks, play dates, trips to the park, time outs, library trips, tantrums, snuggles, bedtime reading, dance parties, messes, and a lot of other things my life does not have right now. I would have loved that life for what it was, but that was never my dream. I never had to make the decision to not be pregnant, to not be a mom; my body did that for me. I was sad. I am sad. I miss the life I could have had and holding the baby I never got to hold.

But.

I love my life. I see the blessing the sadness of my miscarriage was. I see all the opportunities and possibilities my life still has in store for me that would not have been possible as a single mom to a five year old.

bisous und обьятий,
RaeAnna

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Eateries, Houston

Three Years and A Sweet Cup

October 4, 2019September 30, 2019 RaeAnna

Three years ago last Tuesday, I moved to Houston. I knew zero people. I knew almost nothing about the city except: NASA and it’s an hour away from the beach. Dylan and I were very, very poor. We didn’t even have a couch at that point in time. We were saving money in every way we could, which means we didn’t get out and do much at first.

There are tons of perks to being in a big city, especially one as international as Houston. Food is my favorite part of a diverse cities because of the access to obscure and unknown foods. The problem is food costs money. When I moved here, there was very little money and a lot of food to try. It was easier not to tempt myself. I did go on the hunt for gelato. I love ice cream a lot. I love gelato A LOT more.

I found Sweet Cup shortly after moving to Houston. I fell in love with them for their gelato. I liked them even more when I found out they are a female owned business. The owner is even sweeter than her gelato! Sweet Cup was the first Houston business to follow my blog on Instagram. Actually, they were the first business to follow my blog on Instagram. I had no following and no real direction. Although currently, it could be argued my direction is no direction. I bop in literally whenever I’m in that part of town. I’ve even been known to drive across town for a cup. It’s delicious.

Houston has been home for three years, and I love it. I wasn’t sure if I would that first year because life was hard; I was poor. I couldn’t enjoy the city to its fullest or tastiest at first. Over the last two years, I have fallen more in love with the city, met friends, explored, and tried new foods. But for me, Sweet Cup tastes like Houston. In the beginning, it was all I could afford. Now, it’s a reminder of how far I’ve come and the dreams I’m still chasing. Three years have come and gone in a flash. So much has changed, but some things are just as sweet.

bisous und обьятий,
RaeAnna

Lifestyle

Eight Years

December 31, 2018 RaeAnna

Alex and I rarely take cute pictures, they are usually goofy. | My Sweater (backless!) | My Jeans | My Socks | My Boots | My Watch | Alex’s Sweater (I picked it out) | Alex’s Jeans (these too)

To the rest of the world, today is New Year’s Eve. Up until eight years ago, it was just New Year’s for me too.

My most influential person came into my life eight years and a few hours ago. His name is Alex. He’s made appearances here and there on my blog. He’s been a big part of my travels this year. He helped make 2018 brilliant.

I can’t really describe Alex to you in any way other than he is an amazing person. People love him or hate him. There is no in between. I don’t know why people hate him except he is an intense kind of man in all the best ways. So there is probably something wrong with the haters.

There are people who come into our lives and change everything. Alex is that person to me. I am who I am because of him. He has become such a part of my story it is impossible to tell it without him. He is written on my soul.

We are always laughing together. Seriously. It’s obnoxious… To other people, I imagine.

On New Year’s Eve of 2010, Alex came into my life, and he never left. We were in college together. He was a senior; I was a freshman. We had almost no reason to meet. Due to fate and a heart condition, he’s stuck with me. We were in choir together. When our director rearranged the seating arrangement, he ended up sitting in front of me. Very few people know this about him anymore: he has a beautiful singing voice. Long story short. Out of sheer optimism or naiveté or stupidity, I invited this dude, who I’d never had an in-person conversation with, to my house for New Year’s. He hugged my dad before we’d ever touched. It was ballsy. It worked out.

In the last eight years, Alex and I have been through more than I could ever write about. We walked to hell and back holding hands a few times over. It wasn’t easy. Actually, it’s been the hardest eight years of my life. Because of him, they have been the best eight years of my life. He is just shy of sainthood. Flawed as he is, he has always put me first. I have severe PTSD. I’ve been through sexual assaults and domestic violence. I have been in abusive relationships. I have been insecure. I have been broken. I have been bruised literally and in a non-physical sense of things. I have seen some pretty horrific things. Through my darkest days, Alex has always been there. He has never left. He has never made me feel less than. He has made me laugh through my tears. He has held my hand when there were no words to be said. When I have been unable or unwilling to pick up the pieces of my soul, he has put them back together. He helped make me whole, when I had never known what that felt like.

Alex went into the Marines over five years ago. We spent three years living together before he enlisted. In five years, we have spent one Christmas and one birthday together. He deployed twice. Two weeks ago, he left on his third deployment. He’s on a boat somewhere in the world. I don’t know where. Late on Christmas Day, I was lucky enough to get a phone call from him. We exchange emails whenever he has internet. I don’t know when he’ll be home. It will be eight months or more. It’s hard. I miss him. I miss hearing his voice. I miss getting to visit him. This isn’t new. We’ve gone over a year without seeing or talking to each other by phone in the past. It’s part of life in the military and loving someone in the military. Many other women, men, and families go through the same thing. Worry is part of our lives.

Just doing normal people stuff in a field in 12 degree weather. Like normal people.

Alex and I have been a part of each other’s lives for eight years. They have been beautiful and stressful and all the feelings in between. Life has been hard on us. A lot of things were out of our control, some that weren’t, and some that seemed like they were. I wish many things had gone differently in our combined lives and our lives before each other. Then again, I don’t. I wouldn’t change him or I or what we have for anything in the world.

I can’t tell you who I am without talking about Alex. He has been an integral part of my life. Some people don’t just influence who we are, they form who we are. He has pushed me to be better. He has questioned my opinions and thoughts. He has held me when I’ve cried. He always challenges me to be the best version of myself. I don’t think I’m as good for him as he is for me, but I’m not going to tell him that any time soon.

It’s been eight years. I hope to have about a gazillion more, but I’ll settle for another seventy. I think I can make it to 97. Any day after that will be a blessing I think.

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