It
was 2002. I was a sophomore in
college at Clemson University.
Majoring in Elementary Education, partying with my sorority sisters,
living a messy dorm-room-life, ordering pizza at 3am. I was a little chubby-ish (25 lbs heavier than I am now… see
“ordering pizza at 3am” and “partying” – oh, and I also had an attractive
walking boot on my left foot due to a stress fracture…) – but I was living life
as a college girl, truly single for the first time in years, and a relationship
was not on my list of to-dos.
He
was a senior in college at the University of South Carolina-Aiken. He was two months away from graduating,
and came up to Clemson to visit his friend Clay (who happened to be dating my
older sister).
It
was a Friday night.
My
parents were in town for a big football weekend. We were part of a crowd at a place called Explorers for a
big oyster roast. It sounds so
cheesy, and so cliché, but I will honestly never forget the first time I saw
him. He had his hat on
backwards. Big brown eyes. Eyelashes for days.
AndOhThoseDimples.
We
talked briefly… Interestingly enough, Clay was meeting my parents for the first
time. T was there by happenstance,
and was introduced to us rather nonchalantly. I remember thinking he was incredibly cute, but, as I said
earlier, I was not in the mood for boys.
Fast
forward to the next day. Football
Saturday. The plan was to tailgate
in front of my sister’s apartment complex, The Ridge, right across from Bowman
Field. I may or may not have put a
little extra effort into my appearance and wardrobe choice, even though I swore
boys weren’t on my radar. Though,
looking cute with a big black boot on your foot isn’t an easy feat.
I
remember hoping he’d join us at the tailgate. I was so excited when I saw the dimples again! We talked, and maybe flirted a little
bit. I mentioned to Clay that I
thought his friend was cute.
Skip
ahead to the post-football-game-fun and somehow we all ended up at Clay’s
apartment. T and I spent quite a
long time on the front porch… talking… flirting… me sorta kinda trying not to
be seduced by the brown-eye-long-lashes-dimples combo. But I eventually gave in… especially
when he asked me if he could kiss me.
I
was a goner.
There
was more talking, laughing, kissing.
Totally innocent, nothing inappropriate or 50-Shades-of-Grey-ish.
And
then he called me Kristen.
It
was funny, actually. I, jokingly
and out of nowhere said, “So, what’s my name?”
When
he paused, I thought – oh crap – he’s already forgotten.
He
guessed Kristen. I was – I don’t
know – disappointed? He was,
too. But, I laughed it off,
figuring he didn’t even live in town, this was just an innocent night of flirting
and kissing, no big deal.
When
my friend Brooke and I left the apartment, I remember her telling me, “Jessie,
he doesn’t even live here. Don’t
get your hopes up!” She wasn’t
being mean… just realistic. She
knew me – knew how my feelings get the best of me – knew that I didn’t know how
to dip my toes in the water, only how to dive in head first.
The
next morning – er, early afternoon (it was a late night) – Brooke and I were
enjoying Zaxby’s, lying in our dorm room beds, when my phone rang. It was my sister, asking me to come
over to Clay’s apartment before T left to go back home. I decided to give it a go, just to see
if there was any chemistry that existed now that we weren’t caught up in the
moment of the 2am moonlight.
And
there was.
There
was something about that backwards hat and those big brown eyes.
He
asked for my number, and wrote it in pencil on the torn off corner of a piece
of newspaper.
That
was Sunday afternoon.
I
didn’t hear from him that night.
Or
all day Monday.
Or
Monday night.
Or
all day Tuesday.
I
started to get mad at myself for even considering that this could turn into
something. Like Brooke had told
me, he lived 3 hours away!
But
then, he called.
It
was a cold-ish, rainy Tuesday night.
We
talked for almost three hours. I
don’t even remember what we talked about.
We didn’t even care.
Looking back, I now know that neither of us were looking for someone or
even wanted to get into anything serious.
He had just recently gotten out of a very long relationship and I was
learning what it meant to be single.
But it was like we couldn’t help it. Something was just… there.
He
told me he was going to come back into town for the NC State football game with
his friend Charlie. I think my
heart skipped a beat. I was so
excited, but equally nervous.
Would the attraction still be there? Would we still have that chemistry?
Would
he remember my name?
This
is where it gets a little scary – or maybe I’m being dramatic. But, my friend Brooke and I were at the
football game, waiting around for T to show up. We were standing outside the stadium, and I was smoking a
cigarette. Disgusting, yes. Like many college-aged girls, I dabbled
in this disgusting habit, but it was more of a social, what-the-heck kind of
habit rather than an I-have-to-have-one-addiction. The way T tells the story is that when he spotted us, and
saw me smoking, he was thisclose to walking away and I immediately became a lot
less attractive. Smoking disgusted
him. His heart dropped.
And
my heart drops when I think about how I could’ve lost it all in that one
moment.
But,
he decided to give me the benefit of the doubt. (Thank goodness!)
We
had yet another awesome weekend, with hours of conversation, instant chemistry,
and everyone remembered everyone’s name.
He
may or may not have spent the night in my dorm room. (Again, totally innocent!) He may or may not have had to pee in a Mountain Dew bottle
in the middle of the night because we were too scared he’d get caught if he
went out to the hallway bathroom.
He may or may not have had to jump out of the window in the morning to
avoid the front desk get-caught-walk-of-shame.
Again,
may or may not have.
From
this point forward, there were lots of weekend visits between us. Me traveling to him, him to me. Our very first official date was dinner
at a Chinese restaurant (Jade of China) and the movies (Jackass… classy, I
know).
A
relationship that was intended to start slowly took off with warp speed. There was no denying what was between
us. All day long I’d look forward
to our nighttime phone conversations.
This was before everyone in the world had cell phones. He did not. So, we only talked once per day, at night, right before we
went to bed. All day long I’d
think about things I’d want to tell him, share with him, ask him. I’d always have little lists, notes
scribbled on various post-its so that I wouldn’t forget all the things I wanted
to talk to him about when my phone finally rang.
And
I remember the exact minute I realized I loved him.
We
were on the phone…
T: “Have you looked at the moon
tonight? It’s awesome!”
Me,
lying in bed: “No, I haven’t…”
T: “Go look at it!”
Me: “Ok” --- “Wow!”
T: “You’re not really looking, are you…”
Me,
caught: “Nope, ok, I’ll get out of
bed and really look...” --- walk over to the window, look at the moon, which
looks great and all, but…well…looks just like a plain old moon to me. “It is
pretty!”
T: “Look down.”
I
look down, and there he is, standing in front of my window.
And
in that moment, I fell in love.
He
had driven up to surprise me (and gotten two speeding tickets on the way).
And
that night, he told me I was beautiful for the first time.
For
the first time in my life, I FELT beautiful.
And
two months later, on a December night, after we’d finished watching his
favorite movie of all time (Shawshank Redemption) and scraped the bottom
of our Chinese takeout containers, he finally told me he loved me.
We
spent the next two and a half years long distance. We didn’t know any better, so I think that’s why it worked
for us. We spent a lot of money on
gas, put a lot of miles on our cars.
But we were happy. So happy. Right before my Senior year, he got a
job offer from Wake Forest, and took it.
We were already long distance, so it really didn’t matter.
During
my last day as a student teacher, he spent hours at my apartment, packing my
things. As soon as I bid Pendleton
Elementary adieu, with both of our cars full of my life, we drove the
all-too-familiar-drive to Winston Salem and moved me into my own
apartment. I went back to Clemson
for my graduation, of course, but we wanted to be in the same town as soon as
we could. I didn’t care that I
didn’t have a job yet. I wanted to
know what it was like to be able to drive 5 minutes to see him, rather than 3
hours. I wanted to know what it
was like to run errands together, grab a quick bite to eat, go to the grocery
store, make spontaneous plans.
What
was it like? There are no words.
There’s
a simple, somewhat unimportant memory that sticks out. We were hanging out at his apartment,
watching tv, on a random Thursday night.
It was getting late, and I was just about to drive back to my apartment
to go to bed. And he said, “I want
some donuts.” “Me too!” I said.
So
we went out, in the pouring down rain, and got a dozen donuts and a box full of
donut holes. And I remember
thinking it was so fun to be able to live in the same town and do things like
that whenever we wanted.
I
got a summer job as a gymnastics coach, and found a teaching job at a great
school. I had broken pretty much
every rule I’d ever established for my independent, headstrong, stubborn self
and followed a boy, moving to a town where I knew no one but him.
And
I was loving every minute of it.
I
won’t document the ins and outs of the rest of our relationship. As I said in the beginning, we’ve been
together for almost 10 years now… which is a lot to try to blog about!
But
there are a few highlights from our lives together…
The
time he surprised me by taking me out on a canoe and giving me a graduation
gift – a cruise! (No need to
mention the fact that I thought he was going to propose then, right?)
Our
bike rides around Salem Lake, our first child Bailey J, lots of
beach trips, tailgating and college football games, playing softball together,
many rounds of competitive putt-putt, movie theatre dates, running and working
out together, me getting baptized, snorkeling, trips to Atlanta and Braves
games, skiing, him using my third grade students to propose to me in my classrooms,
buying our first house together, getting married on Trunk Bay in St. John,
honeymooning in Jamaica, celebrating our first anniversary in Cabo, months
spent trying to get pregnant, getting pregnant, meeting our daughter, and now
our adventures as a family of three…
I
know our love story has only just begun.
I envision a house full of kids, and a happily chaotic life as husband
and wife, dad and mom. I’m so
incredibly fortunate to have married my absolute best friend, my soul mate, my
favorite person on the planet.
It’s
not always easy… but the things in life worth having never are.
To
be continued…
No comments:
Post a Comment