Wow. Blogging is apparently not my thing. I haven't been doing much writing at all lately, though. Of any kind. Even my diary is sadly lacking. I used to bombard my journal with constant musings about my love life . . . and then I actually GOT a love life and I stopped writing.
My last post was the summer of the 2010 world cup. Spain won. That summer I made a goal to be married by the next world cup, which is . . . this year. And I'm keeping that goal. :) I realized I wanted to have someone to watch the games with, so I didn't have to watch them by myself. I knew I was going on a mission, but I figured that'd give me just enough time to go on a fabulous mission (to Rome, Italy, which I definitely did), meet a great guy, become friends, fall in love, and then marry him. And that's exactly what I've done the last few years. That's a very simplistic view, perhaps, but true nonetheless.
After I got back from my mission, I dated around quite a bit, but always got dumped half an inch before actually getting a boyfriend. Yeah, BEFORE. You can, in fact, be dumped without actually dating someone. I've done it to others, and they've certainly done it to me. It is not terribly fun. But at any rate . . . It is a pretty good story, come to think of it.
The Story:
So it's fall semester 2012. I had just gotten back from my mission in July. One day, I didn't pack a lunch and so I stopped at Teriyaki Stix for a veggie bowl. In line I was chatting vigorously to the lovely Karen LeCates in Italian about the performance we were going to go to together. Once we said goodbye, the cute guy standing next to me in line asked, "What language IS that?" It turns out he speaks Portuguese, having served a mission in Brazil. We chatted a few minutes and then got our food and said goodbye. I was moving to a new apartment the next semester.
When I signed a contract for the apartment complex, they offered me a space in one apartment for fall semester and in another for winter semester. A bit strange, but I went along with it. Checking out the new building I'd move into, I was once again chatting on the phone, when a really cute guy waved at me and said hi. I waved back, wishing I weren't in the middle of another conversation. The guy from Teriyaki Stix.
When I moved into the new ward, there was a small family home evening group activity in my apartment, in which a men's apartment, apartment 26, came over. There was one roommate in that men's apartment that was more than usually good-looking. His name was Brian, I learned. And yes, he was the one from Teriyaki Stix. His roommate Daniel was a fixture at my apartment, being a good friend of my roommate at the time. I asked him if everyone in his apartment was single. He said he was pretty sure Brian had a girlfriend. I was bummed, but decided (after some urging from Daniel) to flirt with his roommate Salvatore, instead.
And I threw everything I had at that kid! Oh, the hairdos and the opera-singing and the Italian and the intellectual conversations . . . he was a great kid, really, he was, and I darn well almost managed to seduce him, but he ended up dumping me too, just like the others, and before we were even really dating! Ouch. Brian and I became good friends. It turns out that he WASN'T actually dating anyone, but that's beside the point. Just a couple of weeks after the Salvatore escapade, Brian invited me over to his apartment for some minestrone and an episode of Sherlock. I had just had my car towed and wasn't feeling too great about myself, but like the good friend he was, he made me feel better. I started getting a crush on him. (I know, I know . . . I'm hopeless.) The thing is, though, although we were good friends and hung out sometimes (he even asked me on a date once), I didn't think he liked me back. And I couldn't stop liking him. It was against my will, but it was hopeless. I couldn't help myself. He was just too awesome.
At any rate, I gave him more and more chances, and nada. Nothing. He was definitely not interested. But this really cute redhead named Scott started flirting with me at a party and before I knew it, we were dating. He was fun and charming and nice, and I was twitterpated. But every time I would see Brian again . . . Scott would fly out of my mind and I'd be head over heels for Brian yet again. It was hopeless. After just a few weeks of this, Scott and I broke up--it was like trying to keep magnets stuck together, north to north end the whole time. And I STILL had a raging crush on Brian. I tried getting rid of it, killing my hopes, but the fact of the matter was, I DID have reason to hope.
He was delivering some very mixed signals, and it wasn't as if I was always following him around--he would constantly invite me over to hang out with him. I could have killed my hopes, but I guess a concept from Anne of Green Gables stuck with me: it's better to hope in something and be disappointed than to never hope in it at all. I knew that God wouldn't want me to lose hope, even if it were just over a boy. So I hoped. I dared to hope.
We became even better friends, and were together nearly every day. After just a couple weeks of this, though, he told me that he was only interested in being friends with me, and nothing more. He hadn't told me sooner because he wanted us to stay friends like we were, and wasn't sure how to go about it. It stabbed like a knife, mostly in my tender ego, but I was just happy he had set me free from the worst of my crush and still wanted to be my friend. Pretty much every other guy I've known in the past has either wanted to date me, or has wanted virtually nothing to do with me. It meant the world to me that someone I liked and respected and loved hanging out with as much as Brian really actually wanted to be my friend. My good friend. And we became even better friends.
Once I was able to stop worrying about what he thought of me, I was able to relax and really be myself for the first time in weeks. No more stumbling over my words, no more flushed embarrassment at every awkward phrasing, no more failing to say what I meant. It was wonderful. I wanted things to stay just like that always. It was just so much better than it had been before, and each sunny Spring day grew warmer and brighter and happier. But things had to change. They always do.
A week after the DTR (Define The Relationship), I noticed he probably had a crush on me. The flirting and the tickling and the hanging out all went up a notch or two and I wondered if he realized this. A week after that, though, I definitely noticed. Brian invited me over one night, and we hung out on the couch, watching stupid YouTube videos, when suddenly everything changed. He put his arm around me. And kept it there. In a pointed, "Yes, I am doing this on purpose," kind of way. I was super weirded out. I went home that night and fumed. I don't sleep around (I'm Mormon, and pre-maritally celibate), and I don't even like to kiss or cuddle with boys I'm not actually in a relationship with. So if he thought he was going to "friend-zone" me and then get some benefits, he had another think coming.
The next night, though, I was exhausted from working late at the restaurant, and Brian invited me over again. I declined, but he asked me again to come over, just for a few minutes. So I did. And he did it again! His roommates wandered in and out of the apartment, raising their eyebrows. I'm pretty sure if I hadn't been about to fall asleep I would have been bright red. I figured maybe he did actually want to date me, but I didn't want to be pushy about making things official. So I waited for him to at least mention that he liked me.
The next day we watched movies, cuddled the whole time, and chatted with our friends. He mentioned absolutely nothing. By evening, I was just plain mad. I ditched out on "ward prayer"--a church activity--and went home to write in my diary and fume a little more. I kept being interrupted, though, so after a while, I gave up and went over to Brian's apartment, where my friend Kevin was, and sang a few songs with them.
Everyone else cleared out surprisingly quickly after that, leaving Brian and I alone on the couch. He was awkwardly shuffling around a piece of sheet music.
"You seem annoyed at something. What is it?" He said.
Then I exploded. I told him he was confusing the heck out of me and I had no idea what he wanted from me.
Hiding behind the piece of music, he said, "I really really like you."
I halted. Raised an eyebrow. "But?" I asked slowly, looking for the catch.
"No buts," he said, "I really like you."
"But . . . you said you didn't."
"Things change."
Yes. Yes, they do. By the end of that evening we'd decided we'd date exclusively from that point on. We took a long walk the next day, in the sunshine, all the way around campus. Sitting on the fountain in the courtyard of my favorite building, he leaned over and kissed me in broad daylight. That was May 27th. And the rest is history. We decided to fall in love. We fall more deeply in love every day. Sure, we have our issues, and we take turns having crabby days, but we take care of each other, and we know we'll work through everything together. This is the right thing. This is what I've been waiting for.
We're getting married May 3rd. I can't wait for our life together to start. So . . . that's the story, I guess. The short version. I'll write out the long version one of these days, I'm sure. :)
My last post was the summer of the 2010 world cup. Spain won. That summer I made a goal to be married by the next world cup, which is . . . this year. And I'm keeping that goal. :) I realized I wanted to have someone to watch the games with, so I didn't have to watch them by myself. I knew I was going on a mission, but I figured that'd give me just enough time to go on a fabulous mission (to Rome, Italy, which I definitely did), meet a great guy, become friends, fall in love, and then marry him. And that's exactly what I've done the last few years. That's a very simplistic view, perhaps, but true nonetheless.
The Story:
So it's fall semester 2012. I had just gotten back from my mission in July. One day, I didn't pack a lunch and so I stopped at Teriyaki Stix for a veggie bowl. In line I was chatting vigorously to the lovely Karen LeCates in Italian about the performance we were going to go to together. Once we said goodbye, the cute guy standing next to me in line asked, "What language IS that?" It turns out he speaks Portuguese, having served a mission in Brazil. We chatted a few minutes and then got our food and said goodbye. I was moving to a new apartment the next semester.
When I signed a contract for the apartment complex, they offered me a space in one apartment for fall semester and in another for winter semester. A bit strange, but I went along with it. Checking out the new building I'd move into, I was once again chatting on the phone, when a really cute guy waved at me and said hi. I waved back, wishing I weren't in the middle of another conversation. The guy from Teriyaki Stix.
When I moved into the new ward, there was a small family home evening group activity in my apartment, in which a men's apartment, apartment 26, came over. There was one roommate in that men's apartment that was more than usually good-looking. His name was Brian, I learned. And yes, he was the one from Teriyaki Stix. His roommate Daniel was a fixture at my apartment, being a good friend of my roommate at the time. I asked him if everyone in his apartment was single. He said he was pretty sure Brian had a girlfriend. I was bummed, but decided (after some urging from Daniel) to flirt with his roommate Salvatore, instead.
And I threw everything I had at that kid! Oh, the hairdos and the opera-singing and the Italian and the intellectual conversations . . . he was a great kid, really, he was, and I darn well almost managed to seduce him, but he ended up dumping me too, just like the others, and before we were even really dating! Ouch. Brian and I became good friends. It turns out that he WASN'T actually dating anyone, but that's beside the point. Just a couple of weeks after the Salvatore escapade, Brian invited me over to his apartment for some minestrone and an episode of Sherlock. I had just had my car towed and wasn't feeling too great about myself, but like the good friend he was, he made me feel better. I started getting a crush on him. (I know, I know . . . I'm hopeless.) The thing is, though, although we were good friends and hung out sometimes (he even asked me on a date once), I didn't think he liked me back. And I couldn't stop liking him. It was against my will, but it was hopeless. I couldn't help myself. He was just too awesome.
At any rate, I gave him more and more chances, and nada. Nothing. He was definitely not interested. But this really cute redhead named Scott started flirting with me at a party and before I knew it, we were dating. He was fun and charming and nice, and I was twitterpated. But every time I would see Brian again . . . Scott would fly out of my mind and I'd be head over heels for Brian yet again. It was hopeless. After just a few weeks of this, Scott and I broke up--it was like trying to keep magnets stuck together, north to north end the whole time. And I STILL had a raging crush on Brian. I tried getting rid of it, killing my hopes, but the fact of the matter was, I DID have reason to hope.
He was delivering some very mixed signals, and it wasn't as if I was always following him around--he would constantly invite me over to hang out with him. I could have killed my hopes, but I guess a concept from Anne of Green Gables stuck with me: it's better to hope in something and be disappointed than to never hope in it at all. I knew that God wouldn't want me to lose hope, even if it were just over a boy. So I hoped. I dared to hope.
We became even better friends, and were together nearly every day. After just a couple weeks of this, though, he told me that he was only interested in being friends with me, and nothing more. He hadn't told me sooner because he wanted us to stay friends like we were, and wasn't sure how to go about it. It stabbed like a knife, mostly in my tender ego, but I was just happy he had set me free from the worst of my crush and still wanted to be my friend. Pretty much every other guy I've known in the past has either wanted to date me, or has wanted virtually nothing to do with me. It meant the world to me that someone I liked and respected and loved hanging out with as much as Brian really actually wanted to be my friend. My good friend. And we became even better friends.
Once I was able to stop worrying about what he thought of me, I was able to relax and really be myself for the first time in weeks. No more stumbling over my words, no more flushed embarrassment at every awkward phrasing, no more failing to say what I meant. It was wonderful. I wanted things to stay just like that always. It was just so much better than it had been before, and each sunny Spring day grew warmer and brighter and happier. But things had to change. They always do.
A week after the DTR (Define The Relationship), I noticed he probably had a crush on me. The flirting and the tickling and the hanging out all went up a notch or two and I wondered if he realized this. A week after that, though, I definitely noticed. Brian invited me over one night, and we hung out on the couch, watching stupid YouTube videos, when suddenly everything changed. He put his arm around me. And kept it there. In a pointed, "Yes, I am doing this on purpose," kind of way. I was super weirded out. I went home that night and fumed. I don't sleep around (I'm Mormon, and pre-maritally celibate), and I don't even like to kiss or cuddle with boys I'm not actually in a relationship with. So if he thought he was going to "friend-zone" me and then get some benefits, he had another think coming.
The next night, though, I was exhausted from working late at the restaurant, and Brian invited me over again. I declined, but he asked me again to come over, just for a few minutes. So I did. And he did it again! His roommates wandered in and out of the apartment, raising their eyebrows. I'm pretty sure if I hadn't been about to fall asleep I would have been bright red. I figured maybe he did actually want to date me, but I didn't want to be pushy about making things official. So I waited for him to at least mention that he liked me.
The next day we watched movies, cuddled the whole time, and chatted with our friends. He mentioned absolutely nothing. By evening, I was just plain mad. I ditched out on "ward prayer"--a church activity--and went home to write in my diary and fume a little more. I kept being interrupted, though, so after a while, I gave up and went over to Brian's apartment, where my friend Kevin was, and sang a few songs with them.
Everyone else cleared out surprisingly quickly after that, leaving Brian and I alone on the couch. He was awkwardly shuffling around a piece of sheet music.
"You seem annoyed at something. What is it?" He said.
Then I exploded. I told him he was confusing the heck out of me and I had no idea what he wanted from me.
Hiding behind the piece of music, he said, "I really really like you."
I halted. Raised an eyebrow. "But?" I asked slowly, looking for the catch.
"No buts," he said, "I really like you."
"But . . . you said you didn't."
"Things change."
Yes. Yes, they do. By the end of that evening we'd decided we'd date exclusively from that point on. We took a long walk the next day, in the sunshine, all the way around campus. Sitting on the fountain in the courtyard of my favorite building, he leaned over and kissed me in broad daylight. That was May 27th. And the rest is history. We decided to fall in love. We fall more deeply in love every day. Sure, we have our issues, and we take turns having crabby days, but we take care of each other, and we know we'll work through everything together. This is the right thing. This is what I've been waiting for.
We're getting married May 3rd. I can't wait for our life together to start. So . . . that's the story, I guess. The short version. I'll write out the long version one of these days, I'm sure. :)
