Catholic Marriage: Henry Seeks Her

I was born in September 1992 at 1:41am — but not before my parents finished buying and setting up my bedroom furniture. My mom’s water broke mid-shopping trip, and she still insisted on finishing first. I like to think I’ve been worth preparing for ever since.

As a baby, I only stopped crying if someone held me and sang. As a toddler, I would march around with my little walker, stop dramatically, and point at exactly where the animal crackers were stored. I’ve always known what I wanted — and I’ve never been shy about it.

When my younger brother was born, the spotlight shifted. He got the outfits, the attention, the admiration. I learned independence early. I built worlds with action figures. I stayed up thinking long after bedtime — what I jokingly called my “alone time.” I’ve always been introspective.

But what stayed with me most were the people who poured affection into me — my godmother, my uncle’s girlfriend — the ones who scooped me up mid-laugh, who taught me creativity, who believed affection wasn’t something to ration.

That shaped me. As an adult, I’ve learned something important: I don’t want affection that feels rented or negotiated. I want it natural. Playful. Safe. I want a relationship where closeness isn’t awkward — it’s grounding. Where laughter and touch are normal. Where our future children grow up in a home where love is expressed freely, appropriately, and without shame.

I’m ambitious. I think long-term. I build with intention. But I’m also affectionate, sentimental, and yes — I still like being held. If you believe affection is strength, not weakness…we might be aligned.