Five years ago, I ended a horrendous situation with a breakup. I can't even call it a "relationship". It was a situation...one that left me disillusioned and skeptical of everyone avec wang for a solid 12 months. It was so pathetic I stayed single for a year, eventually realized that it was possible to go an entire day without bursting into tears or feeling completely miserable, and learned that there's nothing wrong with being alone. I was living in a new city, I had a new job, I made new friends and for the first time in several years I was having fun and acting like myself.

One year later, I decided to start dating again, or at least be open to the possibility that not all males are cat feces and that I might want to be in the presence of one again. I went on a handful of dates. Some were atrocious. Some were entertaining. They all make for good stories that I can look back on now and laugh. At the time it felt like extra work - exhausting and stressful.

My friend Adam from high school messaged me on Facebook one day to say that there was someone I just had to meet, a friend of his from university. Apparently, he was like the male version of myself because we both had horses growing up and are both dirty-minded. He suggested we go on a double date to a martini bar in Halifax. I agreed, and figured that at the very least I'd get a free martini and another story for my little book. I remember the outfit I picked out - gray pants (vertical pinstripes = slimming), a white top and a big chunky necklace, and heels. I didn't know if the guy would be taller or shorter than me and decided I didn't care, I was wearing heels.

I got to the bar and was surprised to see that Adam's friend was better-looking and better-dressed than I'd expected, which made me nervous. He was also taller than me, even in heels...bonus. He was polite but not very talkative. I guzzled a Sour Apple and blabbed away. When it was time to leave, he mentioned getting together soon to hang out. I agreed and we exchanged email addresses and numbers, but as I drove home, I thought, "you are never going to hear from him again." And I was a little disappointed.

A few days later, he emailed. He explained he'd had internal bleeding the night of our double date which was why he wasn't really drinking and wasn't very talkative, and asked if I wanted to go out and get some dinner that week. We went to a restaurant and spent a couple hours chatting over our food and I realized he was actually pretty normal and sane and nice to spend time with, when his innards weren't ripped to shreds. Later that week, we had beers on a patio and went for a walk. For my 26th birthday, there were flowers and a birthday cake - the first time I'd gotten flowers from a guy since grade nine. I realized, with surprise, that he liked me. Shortly after that, we were a couple.

It was hard for me at first, still coming out of the mindset that all men are swine. I always assumed something was wrong because things seemed too good to be true. I picked fights, got suspicious for no reason, let my imagination work overtime. I was neurotic and shy. I told him a secret. He listened and didn't judge. I told him everything. I realized he was a genuinely good person and that I didn't need to be on guard.

A year and a half after we got together, we got engaged in a covered bridge in the town where I grew up and where he went to university. A year after that, we got married. We've said "I love you" every day since June 2007, never missed a day. I don't know how I've gotten so lucky. I'm still kind of surprised he likes me.