Love Story

Dave and I celebrate our 12th wedding anniversary tomorrow. Here’s an oldie but a goody pulled from my bloggy archives that tells our love story. I wrote this post last march. It’s a year old, but the sentiment is still the same.

I met my husband Dave in college. My first impression of him was that he was really cute, but I wanted nothing to do with him. I was a big time junior, and he was just a lowly freshman. I couldn’t be bothered with that.

But our paths kept crossing on the small campus. And as hard as I tried to put him off, for some reason he kept talking to me. I laughed and giggled with my friends about how he just wouldn’t go away.

I remember very clearly the moment I fell for him.

We’d known each other about a year. It was summer, and both of us ended up sticking around campus instead of going home. He came over to my dorm to see one of my roommates. She wasn’t there. As usual he started talking to me.

And he talked.

A lot.

As I sat there listening, all of a sudden he looked at me and smiled in this certain way that made my heart feel like it was going to burst out my chest. (I’ve seen that same look many times since. It still does the same thing to me after all these years.) I thought to myself, “You know this guy isn’t so bad after all. I might actually like him.”

O.K., so his broad shoulders, sun-bleached blond hair, summer tan and strong, muscular legs didn’t hurt either.

In any case, I was hooked.

That fall I went out of my way to put myself in his path. I went to soccer and volleyball games, because I knew he’d be there. I’d never attended a single one of those sporting events before that.  I used my position as a Community Work Day team leader to spend an entire day with him by making sure his name was on my roster.

Maybe I stalked him.

Just a little.

But I think he liked it.

It didn’t take long before I didn’t have to come up with reasons to run into him. We started hanging out together all the time.

One night we went to a park.

In November.

In the cold.

In the snow.

In the dark.

At 11 o’ clock at night.

(How safe was that?)

We sat in the band shell together. It was still and silent, with snow softly falling. We were sitting close because it was — ahem — so cold. A stoplight illuminated the intersection of the street the park was on. We watched the lights change.

He turned to me and said, “Green light means go.” Then leaned in and kissed me. Probably the worst line anyone ever said to me, but I didn’t care. I sure wasn’t cold anymore. In fact, I can’t remember ever being warmer.

I knew after that night he was The One.

We were engaged less than a year later. Married a few months after that. This march we’ll celebrate our 11th anniversary. We have a four year old son, and our second will arrive this June.

My husband is patient when I am not. He is optimistic when I’m all doom and gloom. He is gentle and kind. He is a fantastic father. He always lets me know I am loved. He goes above and beyond to provide and take care of our family. I am so thankful God gave him to me.

I love him so much. He is my best friend. We laugh together a lot. My favorite thing to do still is just hang out with him. With busy schedules and a son, we don’t get to do that very often these days. But this weekend our son is going to my parent’s.

I’m looking forward to some time with just the two of us.

Can’t wait for Friday night!

But I think we’ll skip the park this time, and just stay in.