Mushy Gushy Lovey Dovey… *vomit*
There’s a lot of love in the air. Two friends have written about their love stories, here and here, recently because of their anniversaries. If you’re looking for some tales of love (or lurve, if that’s your thing), head on over and give them a read.
I thought I’d written out my little love story before, but maybe that was in a MySpace blog, and I can’t cheat on Facebook by going to MySpace to refresh my memory. I tried to write a little bit about it in my last post, but I got feedback that someone looking for a sweet story was “sorely disappointed.” Ouch. I thought it was sweet, and I know that’s all that matters, but still… Ouch. Of course, I’m also married and know the reality of what happens after the honeymoon is over. Don’t get me wrong, life is still good because it’s the life that God wants me to have — but that don’t mean it’s gonna be easy. Anyone who tells you otherwise, anyone who tells you that marriage isn’t work, well… Sorry, their pants are on fire because they’re LYING.
Anyway, let’s move on to some sappiness. The Husband and I are going to a wedding this weekend, and I am very excited about it. I love weddings, I love dates with my husband, and I love this couple and can’t wait to see them tie the knot! Weddings, of course, make me think back to my own, and the months preceding it…
As I said a few days ago, The Husband and I met on June 22nd of 2002. We met, stared, talked. He left that night, and I wondered if I’d see him again. The next morning at church, I did a little peeking around the worship center, but didn’t see him. BUMMER.
The next week, however, our pastor did something that he hadn’t done in YEARS. He asked if there were any visitors. My sister would tell you that my SGR (Single Guy Radar) went off at that point, because I looked around to see who was raising their hands, and my eyes were immediately drawn to HIM. (And The Husband would tell you that he had his hand barely lifted over his head, so for me to notice was surprising.) After service was over, I told the friend I was sitting with that we should go say hi, you know to make him feel welcome. But he was gone. BUMMER!
He showed up in Sunday school, though. I greeted him warmly, as I greeted everyone warmly. Okay, so maybe I didn’t make googly eyes at everyone, and maybe I didn’t move a stack of books to sit closer to everyone, but I was a friendly person! He was only getting semi-special treatment. Really. He stayed after church for lunch, we invited him to come to back the next night for an activity.
That activity was our 20-somethings group meeting with the senior adults at our church for a game night. I was shocked and slightly dismayed when he walked in the door. Shocked, because I didn’t expect him to come. Dismayed, because I was wearing pretty sloppy clothes and my hair was icky. I remember running to the bathroom maybe two dozen times to check my hair. Should I keep it in a ponytail? What if it gets a bump? Does it look too flat? Does it look too poofy? I was 26-years-old and acting like I was 16.
I guess I didn’t look too bad, because after he had finished at one of his tables, he joined the Yahtzee table I was at. I was a MESS. I think I giggled a lot. I couldn’t look at him. Those eyes! That smile! Later, still trying to be congenial and welcoming, I asked him for his e-mail address so I could let him know about other activities our group had going on. I still have the business card he wrote it on.
I went home and e-mailed him. I told him we were so glad he could join us, and we had a lot of other things going on that week. We would be so happy if he could come again. We hoped to see him again soon. If he had any questions, he could call ME at … He told me later he took the e-mail to work and asked some of the ladies if he should read into that. They told him if he didn’t call me, they would!
Tuesday night I had praise team rehearsal, and when I got done there was a message on my cell phone. HIM! I think I called one of my girlfriends to squeal about that (yep, at 26) before I returned his call so I could get it out of my system. So I called him, and it took him my entire drive home to get to the point of asking me out on a date for that Friday.
Wednesday, he came bowling with us. Thursday he joined us to watch fireworks for the 4th of July, and met my parents (he didn’t know they were coming, but it was all good). Friday was our first date. We went to see The Bourne Identity and then he drove me home. We’d gone to an afternoon movie, and we spent hours, HOURS, just talking. We talked in his truck in the parking lot, then we talked upstairs in my apartment. He sat on my couch, I sat at my table. I think we talked until there was nothing left for us to find out about each other. I talked so much that I let it slip I knew he’d gotten a speeding ticket before (public records search = great way to weed out bad dates).
The day after our first date, one of us called the other one to say we had a great time, and we ended up talking for another couple of hours. I think I coordinated some kind of group activity so we could see each other again. We had our second date, and it was on that date that I just knew it was all over. He. Was. It. I was done, there wasn’t going to be anyone else but this man for the rest of my life.
For years I would wonder, “How do you know that he’s the right one?” and I’d get the infuriating reply, “You just know.” That night, I completely understood that response.
Our first date was July 5th. He proposed July 29th. Yeah, of the same year. (I can write more on that when the date approaches. I can’t give it all away now, I need some material!) We were married November 29th. Yeah, of the same year.
It was a whirlwind romance. Nothing stood in our way — as a matter of fact, it seemed like waters parted for he and I as we became The Husband and I. It was as close to perfect as I could imagine.
I’m sorry, though, I’m not going to disillusion anyone and say it’s all been sunshine and rainbows after we got married. It hasn’t been. But it is amazing and awesome and incredible and wonderful to be able to get through the clouds and storms to see another day together, knowing that you have something worth fighting for. (And besides, if you never fight, you never get to make up — and making up can be a lot of fun!)
I don’t think dating should be a whole lot of work. If you know, you know. If the person isn’t right, move on. (If there’s a doubt, don’t.) Marriage is a whole different story, though. It takes work, and it’s worth working on.
So let’s put on our hard hats and get to work.