How I Met My Husband, Part V
25 Jul
Out there on the balcony, that guy was not looking at me. He was looking out. I didn’t think he knew I was there. I heard him say, “Mountains or Water?”
“Excuse me?” I asked.
“Mountains or water… Or forest. To live. Where do you want to live?” he asked.
“Why can’t I have all of the above?” asked I.
“No fair,” he said.
Class continued on. We continued to be comfortable around each other but nothing personal. Christmas passed. I don’t remember that Christmas at all. I don’t know why. Maybe I was alone? I don’t think I went home to my parents. New Years passed. Again – don’t remember it at all. It was now 1998. At the end of the month was Super Bowl Sunday.
I went to church, as I usually did on Sunday mornings. He was there. Just a couple of rows ahead of me with his brother (I assumed. I was right.) Again – I hightailed it out of there at the end of services because I didn’t have the courage to talk to him outside of class. He did, but he couldn’t catch me.
That night I went to evening services. Not because I wanted to learn about God, sadly. It was because I was hoping he’d be there. I didn’t hold out much hope, the Super Bowl was on and he was male. Sorry for the stereotype – but still, come on. I was wrong. He was there. He got there before me in fact.
I mustered up all the courage I had. I walked up to him, incredibly nervous, and while eyeing the nearly empty sanctuary, I asked him I could sit next to him.
“Not a problem.”
Move on to Part VI
Go back to the Beginning
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