a loooooove story

Maybe it's because I just finished reading a romantic story of sorts. Or because February marks 5 years since the boy started studying in the library, just because I was there. And he thought I was cute. Or maybe it's because he remembers very little about 5 years ago (or yesterday) and is always after me to write it down so it's not lost forever. Whatever the reason, I'm inclined to do a little documentation of Andrew + Page, and I thought you might like to give it a read. Enjoy.
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When I went to college, I had no plans of meeting my mate. Marriage was not on my brain. Boys, yes. Marriage, no. Big difference. I wasn't the girl who daydreamed about my colors or what flowers I'd carry. I didn't know what MOB stood for and I had certainly never read a bridal magazine. It really, really never crossed my mind. And then I got married at 21.

Let's back up, shall we? We'll call this part The Boy Timeline.

Age 5: We moved to Youngsville and I started at my new school in the middle of the year. I sat down and Blaine Holmes asked me if I wanted to borrow his black crayon. Because I was horrified that my parents would move me and make me go to a new school, I had a 'tude that particular morning. And no, I did not want his stinkin' black crayon. I wanted the purple one, thankyouverymuch. I was mean to him...and then I had a crush on him. A major crush, until the 4th grade when he moved away. Intense, I know. My friend told him one day on the playground (while I sat at the top of the slide and stared into the distance, with the wind blowing my hair. No, really) and he wasn't interested. Heartbreak 1, Page 0.

Age 10: My mom's friend had a son named Shaun. Move over, Blaine. Crush ensues and lasts until 7th grade. I don't mess around. I crushed hard. He never picked up on my hints and if he did, he didn't care. Heartbreak 2, Page 0.

Age 13: Greyson, my dear sweet friend, started to look a little different in my hormone-ridden state. My friend and I arranged a secret three-way phone call where I sat quietly on the line while she asked him what he thought about me. The verdict: he didn't like me. Heartbreak 3, Page 0.

Middle school was kind of a blur (thank, God) and I found myself a freshman in high school; the smart kid with braces. Score. To date, no boy had ever shown interest in me. My dad said they were intimidated by me. If by intimidated he meant scared-to-look-directly-at-it-for-fear-that-her-buck-teeth-might-attack intimidated, then maybe he was right. Otherwise, I think it was because I was awkward. Oh, heavenly Father, was I awkward. I was 14, tall, skinny, pale and had enough metal in my mouth to reap a fortune at the scrap yard. It was not pretty. Dear future daughter, I'm sorry. I'm so very sorry.


My sophomore year, I was in a chemistry class with juniors. And there were boys in that class. It's true. And in April of that year, something happened that changed my romantic life forever. I got my braces off.

{Stay tuned for more, as I feel inclined to write it...}