Lindsey Mastis

When I met Patrick six years ago, we both had iPaqs. On that first day, we beamed each other our personal information. Soon, we were sneaking out to lunch together, instant messaging, and talking on the phone. One of our first conversations lasted more than eight hours. We stayed up all night chatting.

Three months into our relationship, I knew he was the one and I was ready to marry him. But we had a long-distance relationship and we didn’t want to have a long-distance marriage. So, we decided to wait a while.

I was still in college when we met and I took two internships far away. When I left, Patrick got me roses. I drove them all the way down to Dallas, where I lived in a hotel for a couple of months. And then I moved to Washington, DC, for four months. Patrick visited me each month. We relied on instant messaging and even web cams (no sound and with a five-minute delay) to “talk.”

When I moved back home, I got surgery on both my feet. I couldn’t walk for nearly a month. Patrick would carry me and my wheelchair up the stairs icy and snowy stairs, and then up several flights of stairs to our third-story apartment. The first time I stood up without my foot braces, my ankles gave out. Patrick caught me as I fell. We spent a month together, but then I moved back to Southern Illinois.

As I began anchoring a morning show two hours away from Patrick, he remained supportive. We saw each other every weekend. I never wanted to leave on Sunday night. Sometimes it would be 10, 11, or even past midnight before I’d drive down. A few times I stayed up and drove straight to work. I never wanted to leave his arms.

We even bought a house together in Valley Park. We spent weekends together painting the basement, making shelves, tiling our kitchen, and creating an oasis in the back yard. We had parties and even had my entire family over for Christmas. A little more than a year later, being apart began taking its toll.

Then, Patrick got a job offer in Washington, DC. We saw this as our opportunity to be together. We had a couple weeks to make our decision. We secretly flew to the District and made arrangements to move. In one week we had a going away party, massive garage sale, put our house up for sale, and packed nearly everything we owned into a moving truck and drove across the country with our cats.

It took me a few months to find a job, but Patrick supported me. He even supported my decision to freelance instead of taking a stable minimum-wage job. He knew I wanted to follow my dream and it paid off. We now work at the same company and occasionally even car pool.

We could spend 24-hours a day together, and it wouldn’t be long enough. He is my best friend and he still makes my heart melt. When Patrick asked me to marry him, he said, “We’ve been through everything together.” I believe that. I believe we will continue to go through good times, bad, and even sad times. But together we’ll continue to be strong. I can’t wait for the future!