It was the first time, but it wouldn't be the last.
We were engaged. I had purchased a computer and desk to go with it for us, for our new life together. We were upstairs in his 2 bedroom apartment, putting together the desk. Everyone knows that if a marriage can survive putting things together, it can pretty much survive anything.
I was trying to help, reading directions, while giving my opinion on where things should go. We were almost done, and were both frustrated that it had taken so long to put together. It was getting late, we were both tired, and he finally had enough of my directions. I said something he deemed was wrong, and before I knew it, he bounded across the room and smacked me across the cheek and ear. It was hard. I didn't know exactly what to do.
I ran downstairs to the bathroom, and sat on the toilet for what seemed like hours, holding my head in my hands, crying. Not believing that my fiancee had just slapped me like one slaps a dog when they lick. Not believing that I was sitting on a toilet crying while he was upstairs finishing our project that we were so excited to start together. And only believing that it wouldn't happen again.
He came downstairs and apologized. He said he was tired, and he was sorry, and it would never happen again. BUT, I need to not be so bossy when reading directions. The next day, he gave me a dozen roses and told me he loved me. The pattern started.
It was the first time, but it wasn't the last.
