Twelve years ago around this time, a very cute boy I fancied, invited me to sit in on his college radio show with his best friend. We spent that whole Wednesday morning flirting with each other and ignoring his partner. I still remember the giddy sense of anticipation I felt waiting for something to happen.
See, I had confided in a girl that was less-than-discreet that I liked him. I liked him a lot. The news had travelled fast, and I knew that he knew. I didn't have to wait long for him to act. He asked me to Denny's that Thursday night. He picked me up a little before 11pm in his grey Honda hatchback. We sat in the window booth and it started to snow. We split the Sampler (awww). We sat there talking about how crazy the whole thing was, and what an unlikely pair we made. He drove me home and we hugged at my front door. Despite the lack of a kiss, I floated up the stairs and could barely sleep.
The next night, there was a party at his house. It was there, in the big grey arm chair that I got my first kiss. A few hours, and approximately 12-14 beers later, I let him feel me up in his bottom bunk bed. What can I say, that was what passed for romance back then. It was college for God's sake.
That boy is now my husband of nearly 10 years. Despite our differences and all the reasons why we should never have dated in the first place, we are still together. Happier than ever. I wouldn't change a thing about any of what we have been through, not a moment.
So, here's to us, baby. I love you. You're my Question 4. And, I've got the Sherrin. (Insert another million private jokes here.)_