Boy it was close…wasn’t it!?! I loved watching the battle of the readers have it out on my poll. In the end the romantics beat out all you greedy little devils. And now things are difficult because I finished my How I Met My Husband entry and read it to Pat and he’s not pleased.
Sigh.
It’s times like these I wish he didn’t know about the blog so I could say what I want without getting myself in trouble. I kept asking him why he didn’t want me to tell the story and he kept saying “because I don’t think strangers need to know” and I kept saying “why? who cares?” and he couldn’t give me a clear answer because the truth is HE cares. He’s extremely private.
He wants me to tell you we met at Burger King.
Sigh.
So I’m faced with a dilemma. Do I publish the story because I think it’s sweet, even though I know it’s going to irritate him or do I honor his feelings and keep it private?
Ugh.
Sorry Honey!!! I love you!!
I was 15 and on my way to try out for club volleyball. I was nervous. This was my first year playing club ball and I knew I could get cut. I didn’t hit as hard and I wasn’t as fast as the other girls. I was tall. And tall girls with no talent are referred to as “projects”…I didn’t know it then, but that’s exactly what I was.
Long, gangly, braces, poor make up, bad attitude…not only was I not talented, but I was also not cute. My chances of making a team were slim to none. To be honest, the only reason I even wanted to be on a team was because my friends were all excellent soccer players who played year round. I thought I’d look cool if I played year round too.
Tryouts occurred over a two day period. They were the longest, most grueling, intense hours my fifteen year old self had ever endured. Over 100 girls showed up to fill a total of three teams. And some of the girls were REALLY good. Those girls got picked by the club director to play on the first team. The coaches of team 2 and team 3 took turns picking girls in order to keep the talent as even as possible.
Us girls waited two to three excruciating days for the results of the pick as the coaches hashed it all out. When I got my call I was elated! I MADE a team. It was the third team…but still. At least it was something.
My first club meeting was supposed to be the weekend following the phone call that made me such a happy girl…but I didn’t go.
Instead I went to Burger King and ordered a whopper from a very handsome man working behind the counter. He didn’t charge me for the extra cheese and I knew it had to be love. When he handed me the sandwich I threw it to the ground, leaped over the counter, and kissed him like he had never been kissed before…braces and all.
We were married nine years later.
The End.