my life: meeting {future} hubby

Currently doing a auto-bio series, hoping to reflect, learn, and grow...and for you to get to know this blogger better!  To catch up read:
 "the kiddo years" 
 "the 'tween years"
 "high school." 
"College: Part 1"


I decided to hold off on "College: Part 2," as the stories of when I first met my husband and the move to portland require their own special posts.


And yes, I did ask Hubby if he was okay with me sharing these details. :o)


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It was June of 2001, a mere two months before I was supposed to pack up my little Red Dodge Neon with the "Canadian Guys Kick A**" bumper sticker and move across the country to Portland, Oregon.  I had a modest academic scholarship, but more than that, an appetite for adventure.

I couldn't have predicted what happened next.

One of my roommates asked me one day, very casually, if I had met the hot new guy that lived in our apartment building.   I guess she figured I must have, since I worked in the business office and usually met everyone when they signed their lease.

Clearly, this one had slipped by.  That, or my roommate's and my ideas of "hot" were in two different realms.

"No -- there are no hot guys living here."  I simply stated.  She was insistent though.  She met him outside whilst smoking a cigarette on the picnic table.  "He was really hot."  I shrugged and don't remember thinking much else about it.

Two nights later I came home from working my other job, a head cashier at a shoe store in the Mall of America.  As soon as I entered our apartment I came face-to-face with the boy whom my roomie had been referring to.

He was the kind of good looking that took my breath away.  Tan, muscular, preppy, and clean-cut.  His navy blue t-shirt read, "I'm Easy" in bold, golden lettering.  His grin was, what I could only describe as "s***-eating," with dimples that didn't quit, and a massive, superhero chin.

Red flags were popping up in my brain, left and right.  This guy could be trouble.  You know, the good kind.

He immediately turns the grin on me, extending his hand.  Of course, he has a firm handshake.

"I actually saw you the other day in the parking lot," he says to me, "but you walked in the building so fast I didn't have time to introduce myself."  I don't think much of it, but find out later there was instant physical attraction on his part as well.  As in, he literally tried to run to catch up to me.

We all sit in the living room.  Him on a loveseat across from us, the three roommates, on the sofa.  It's like an interview.  I wonder which of my roommates is also attracted to this guy.  I hope neither.

I listen kind of skeptically to him tell us about himself.  He is 20-years-old {same as us.}  He's from Kentucky.   His Dad works for some grocery store chain I've never heard of.  He's here in Minnesota doing some kind of engineering co-op position.  He keeps saying a word that sounds like "bloubloul."  For the life of me I can't figure out what he is mumbling.  His Kentucky accent is strong but doesn't sound too country.   He is very well-spoken otherwise, especially for a 20-year-old.   Finally after about an hour I figure out {or maybe he tells us} that what he is saying is "Louisville" - his hometown.

He talks quite a bit about money - which to me is kind of pretentious and off-putting.  Like he is trying to impress us.  At that point I did not know that he simply thinks in terms of "numbers" and "finance" a lot.  A complete math guy.

He seems to be the exact opposite of me.  Left-brained.  A partier.  Someone who grew up in a financially comfortable home (at least, compared to me.)  Really into sports.  A fraternity guy.  Nothing at all said he was "my type."

Yet, he is charming.  Friendly.  Handsome.  Smart.

I decide that night, despite my plans to not date anyone before moving to Portland, I would go on a date with this guy...if he asked.  Just for fun.  Obviously we were too opposite for anything serious to come of it, right?

Several nights later he appears in our apartment again.  One of my roommates has several friends over - fellow flight attendants who had stolen quite a few mini liquor bottles from their last flight.  After a couple rum and Cokes each, the Kentucky boy and I are focused solely on each other.

He declares he needs to go do his laundry...and it is clear he wants company.  We talk in the whirring laundry room for hours.  He tells me things that I don't think he tells every girl he meets.   I kiss him.  He kisses me back.

He asks me out on a date.  Of course, I say yes.  We walk up and down Nicollet Mall in Minneapolis.  Eat at McCormick&Schmick's, a seafood restaurant.   He orders us wine with his fake ID.  Our oysters arrive scandalously late.  We hold hands.  He teases me for not unlocking his car door for him, after he had just held mine open for me.

Everything feels strangely comfortable with him... which is completely unexpected.   We talk easily, we flirt easily, we laugh easily.

one of our first dates - taste of minnesota

Each day I expect something to happen that will change my mind about him.  None of my previous relationships lasted very long, five months at most, and I figured because he and I were so opposite one of us would get bored or annoyed.

But, for the most part, when we were not working we were inseparable.

making my 'going away' dinner

Let me be real -- there were a couple times it did end during that summer.  Almost.  Neither of us wanted a serious relationship, since he would eventually move back to Kentucky to finish college, and I planned to leave soon for Oregon...so there were moments when we tried to push each other away.  Once he literally told me he just wanted to "be alone."  That lasted about 12 hours.  One night I woke him up and tried to chat with him and he called me "annoying."    Yeah, something that little set me off and I didn't speak to him for three days.   It was like I was looking for a reason to break up with him, before things got too serious.  In my heart I knew it was too late for that.  When I finally agreed to see him again, we were back together in an instant.

Two weeks before I was supposed to move to Portland I said, "I love you."  It just kind of popped out of my mouth, as naturally as a "hello."

There was a pause and my heart nearly stopped.  Then, "I love you, too."  Words we had both spoken to others before, but never had carried the same meaning until that moment.

after church with my family - the day before I started my journey to portland, or

There was no going back - we were in love, and had only two weeks to enjoy it before I moved away and brought our romance to an abrubt end.

Or did I?

Next up: My Life: Portland 

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