Lucky Thirteen

"Hey, what are you doing tonight?"

(Pointing at my cheerleading uniform) "Going to the game."

"Oh yeah, but what are you doing?"

(Again pointing at my uniform) "Uhhhhh, cheering?"

"Yeah, I got that. But do you do anything afterwards or do you just cheer?"

(Awkwardest laughter ever) "Uh, yeah. I do stuff after."

(Painfully) "Well, do you want to do something with me?"

(Literally squealing) "Yes!"

"Alright. I'll see you at the game."

This epic conversation changed just about everything about my life thirteen years ago. Man, what a catch I was. The real bonus in this entire scenario is that John claims he didn't see me skip, literally, back to my table of friends exclaiming, "John. Wahlers. Asked. Me. Out!"

John and I met during my sophomore year in Spanish class, Ms. Hiner's class, and I was immediately in love. Seriously. He was coolly quiet, hands down the cutest boy I'd ever seen, and always laughed at me and my friends' jokes or smiled as we loudly belted out the lyrics to Shakira's Estoy Aqui (a seriously great Spanish song). And everyday at lunch I'd find some excuse to pass by his table. Subtle. He swears he told his friends he was going to date me, but nothing happened. He had a girlfriend, I had a boyfriend, and the year passed.

Sometime during my junior year a friend told me John was in his class and told him he wanted to ask me out. But nothing happened until we bumped into each other walking out of school and fell into an awkward conversation. We repeated our walk to the parking lot the next day and the next day, and things got progressively less awkward as the week progressed. By the end of the week, the Friday after Valentine's day, I got up to throw my trash away at lunch and John walked over. And well, you know, THE conversation ensued. When John asked me if I still wanted to go out before we pulled out of the parking lot later that afternoon, I tried desperately to make up for my squealy yes, with a "sure if you want." Idiot.

Some first date highlights...

§  John showed up just before halftime of the basketball game. I'd spent the first half of the game obsessively watching the door and scanning the crowd.

 

§  At halftime, I followed him outside, and when he asked me where I lived so he could pick me up after the game, I pointed. No, my house wasn't across the street. It was at least a mile away, and shockingly, John didn't have a clue where I lived from me pointing at the water tower.

§  He got out of the car and came to my door. Something none of my other boyfriends did. What a catch. He was immediately bombarded by my mom, sister and all the cheer moms. Just a little overwhelming for a first meeting.

§  For our first date, John took me to an apartment party (classy) where two of his guy friends stripped down and raced to see who could swim the length of the pool faster (super classy).

§  I quietly puked in the bathroom. I've always been the lamest drinker.

§  My ridiculously early curfew made us jet early, but when John grabbed my hand as we walked to the car, I thought I just might die.

§  John asked for my number when we got back to my house. I wrote my name on the piece of paper, just in cases.

§  He kissed me. Three of the most G-rated, sweetest kisses ever. I think I actually did die. What a smooth operator.

 

And from that night on, we've talked every single day. We've walked through some of the ugliest and most beautiful moments of each other's lives together, and for too many reasons to detail, we just work. It hasn't been a perfect thirteen years, but we decided a long time ago that being together is home. And there truly isn't a better place to be. Lucky thirteen, right boss?