Thanks For The Memories…

Wow. It is official. I posted for thirty days straight. Sometimes more than once. I am so proud of myself for sticking with it. It was hard. I won’t lie to you. But I did it. My final NaBloPoMo post is going to be about how I met my husband. I figure he deserves it since I am always ragging on the poor guy. So Honey, this one’s for you.

My little brother actually knew him first. They went to Bill Arp Elementary School together. Jeff went on to Fairplay and Jimmy moved to Detroit. They met up again their senior year of high school. And then didn’t see each other for years.

In the mean time, I grew up. My brother and I had always been close friends and we used to hang out with this same group of friends. God, the fun we had. One of our friends worked in the kitchen of Taco Mac. His name was Eric. We used to always go up to the Mac on Friday and Saturday nights after we got off work. Jeff and I were working at Alpine together then. Anyway, we would all get together and drink and be rowdy and just have fun. It amazes me to this day how long it took for Jimmy and I to actually meet.

One night I noticed Eric seemed upset. I went up to the bar and asked him if he was okay. He wasn’t. He told me his brother was in the hospital and he didn’t know any more details. Everyone was pretty somber that night. We didn’t see him for a few days. The next weekend he was back and let us all know that his brother was fine, and had moved in with him for a little while.

About two weeks later, after a late night, we all went back to Eric and John’s apartment to hang out and play cards. I walked in the door and almost died. There was the hottest guy sitting on the couch reading Harry Potter. I was terribly nervous. I don’t remember what I said to him, but I am sure it was something really dumb. He barely even said two words back. It was Jimmy, Eric’s brother.

Over the next few weeks we would hang out more and more at their house. And it was always my idea. I would try desperately to get him to talk to me. One night we came back to their apartment and there was this girl there. My heart literally stopped. I was so crushed. It was his ex-girlfriend, I found out later. You would never have known it from the way she acted. She was an evil bitch, but that is a whole different post. We finally started talking, and one thing led to another. And we hooked up. I am not terribly proud of myself for that. But it is the truth. That was right around Thanksgiving of that year. We saw each other a few times and then nothing. For like a week. I was confused. I was at work one night talking to a girlfriend about where the “relationship” was going, and I didn’t know if he was the one, blah,blah,blah, and one of the girls came up to me and told me there was someone here to see me.

I remember wondering who it could be. I walked down the ramp towards the host stand, and there stood Jimmy. With a dozen roses in his hands. They were a pale cream color with blush tips. My favorite roses. I don’t know how he knew that because I generally don’t care for roses. I am more of a daisy girl. But he did, and I still have them to this day.

He explained that he had been sick. He wasn’t sure where we were going yet either, but he would like to find out. Our first date was at Sweetwater Park. We walked and talked for hours. It was the best date of my life. We both decided not to see other people. Which was fine by me. I was sick of dating by then. I was ready to be with him. And only him, for the rest of my life. I knew he was the one and had known it in my heart all along.

Six months later we were married at Sweetwater Park. Surrounded by our family and friends. It was the best day of my life. The luckiest day of my life. And a choice I have never once regretted making.