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Got Twitterpated

Written by  valerie
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In honor of my anniversary (today)..

My husband and I started dating in late fall of 1997 (almost 13 years ago) and were married just a few feet from that location, with a scenic ocean view at sunset.  However, when we FIRST met, there was hardly a future for us.

I was working for his mom in college as an office assistant.  He came in looking for his mom (who happened to not be there at the time), and very impatiently (spoiled-brat type of rude) asked for his mom while I was on the phone with a “customer.” When he didn’t quiet down, I put the phone on hold and said (imagine this in a stern voice), “Who do you think you are coming in here like that?”  He very smugly replied, “The boss’s son.”  And so the hate relationship began.

There after, for those few months, he visited the office very frequently.  And he would always pester me childishly (he would steal my shoe and run down the hall with it, making me late for class or mess up the computer screen when I was typing, etc.).  Yea, typical 6 year old boy behavior when he likes a girl.  I hated him with a passion.  So much, in fact, that my friends thought I might actually like him (since I spent SO much time talking about how much I despised him).   This went for months until one November day on a so-called visit to his other friend in the office, he asked me out.  Well, sort-of.  His friend (who also worked in the office) asked him to a large group gathering that weekend, to which he replied “yes.”  Only hitch was that he needed to find a date…country dancing.  It was a date of convenience.  I was the only other person there and the friend needed an answer fast.  His romantic line was, “Wanna go?” and my ladylike response was, “If you’re paying.”  Nice, huh?

I remember coming back to my roommates that Wednesday evening wondering if I had an actual date with the guy or if that was just playing.  I told them that I may have a date that Saturday, maybe not.  Since I had not heard from the guy in a couple of days, I assumed it was not a real date and made alternate plans to a mini Firenze reunion (I happened to study abroad there that past summer).  Friday late afternoon, Mr. Six-year old unexpectedly waltzed into the office with his usual smirk and asked what time he was to pick me up the next day.  I was shocked.  I guess I did have a date after all.  We coordinated a time and divided the evening into 2 parts: his country dancing group from 6 to 8 (which I had to leave by 8 anyway because I was not 21) and my mini reunion group afterwards.

The date did not go well, each of us avoiding the other at our respective events. But God had a plan.  He intended for us to get together whether we liked it or not!  And here we are almost 13 years later!  God has a sense of humor.  I’m one lucky gal – really!

Last modified on Wednesday, 11 January 2012 23:53

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