I Must Be Dreaming.

7 years ago I walked up to the turning point of the basement stairs of my boyfriends house and looked up to the top, where he turned around and glanced at me. He was so handsome in the underrated way, he had blue eyes and his hair gelled up in the front. He was skinny, but this meant that his arms were more muscular than any other guy I knew. His eyes squinted up when he smiled. These were the things I mostly took notice of, and that day, in my mind, we were going to be official. Like, “in a relationship” Myspace, official. I mean, we watched Juno, played with his cat, I watched him play guitar hero on expert level (swoon!) and we got all make-y out-y. To a 17 year old, we were all but betrothed.

“Look,” he said.

Uh oh.

“I really like you, but I’m going to Pennsylvania in the fall, and I want you to enjoy your senior year. We don’t need to do a long distance thing right now.”


“Oh, yeah it’s cool,” I said, attempting to be aloof.

Then he made me watch him play World of Warcraft until I had to go to work as a sandwich artist at Subway. I remember he tried to kiss me goodbye and I didn’t let him. I spent the next 7 hours aggressively making sandwiches. ¬†With every vegetable topping, I would mull over our date and then the swift breakup of a relationship that was never even official. I thought of all the children we would never have. I thought about how I’d surely never recover. I thought about just committing to a life of being a hermit, because obviously, the love of my life wasn’t reciprocating those feelings for me. Those poor people at Subway that day must have had the most emotional sandwiches ever. 6 inch chicken terriyaki with a side of teenage angst, you got it sir.

I’m pretty sure I went home and posted a super emotional song lyrics on Myspace, probably something like Taylor Swifts “I’d Lie“.

Now, I can’t be 100% sure what all occurred in the last 7 years, maybe I sobbed into his Dr. Pepper enough times, I don’t know. But somehow we made it here:






Now I get to go to bed next to that blue eyed heartbreaker and call him my husband.

We still like to get make-y out-y and my broken hearted past has been mended.

I get to be the one to sing him cheesy John Legend songs out of key.

And he gets to be the one to grab my butt in public at inappropriate times.

Yes, Big S, you did the one thing your mom told you not to: “Don’t get that girl pregnant.”

But hey, I’d say it worked out pretty well for both of us.

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Happy Valentines Day, hubby.


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