un-dateable
Truth be told, I only ever dated one person.
Then I married him.
I had a slew of boyfriends during high school.
However, they were all crushes established only in my head.
I was, quite honestly, un-dateable.
My junior year, there was a boy that asked me to prom.
Came up to me while I was at my locker.
He was well-known as a nerd.
And I, who always earned straight A's, didn't need more help in that category.
I was quiet. Intelligent (if I'm being honest). Had a small group of friends. Schoolwork was a priority for me, as was church on the weekends. Most of my peers saw me as a nerd, stuck-up, quiet.
Even though I didn't care much about my social ranking, I didn't need a fellow nerd to pull me down further.
I was already going with someone else, I told him.
Except that was a lie.
I was hoping that Mike would ask me.
You see, Mike had asked me, months ago, if I wanted to go out some time.
I hoped prom would be just that time.
Except he had found someone else, a new girl at school.
Yet all through high school, I was praying.
For my future husband. That God would prepare him to be the person I needed him to be, and that God would do the same with me for him. That He'd protect him, grow him, challenge him.
My freshman year at a private Christian college, still no boyfriend.
Most of my friends had someone they were dating.
I started dressing a little differently.
I started wearing make-up.
I started praying harder.
February 14th, 1999, I was in my dorm room studying.
My roommate Jamie was not. She was the social butterfly, and she was good for me.
She was also so good for me that she let me use her computer, because mine was worthless.
We were in the days of dial-up and AOL Instant Messenger.
That was, quite possibly, the coolest thing this farm girl had ever seen.
So then what is a farm girl to do when she's using her roommate's computer and some high school friend of hers IM's her?
She did the right thing. She explained who she was, where the roommate was, and when she'd be back.
He was a good friend of hers, had a locker next to hers in high school, had joined the Marine Corps, and had stopped going to church. She had been bugging him to find a church.
He wanted to tell her that on that day, he finally went back to church.
Except he kept chatting.
And then he called. We just talked and talked and talked. I stayed up way too late, thanks to the three-hour time difference between Indiana and California. Some nights it was so late that I stretched our telephone cord through the entire room, under the door, and into the hallway, where I could talk without keeping the roomie awake.
We talked about everything under the sun.
Oddly enough, from opposite ends of the country, we became best friends. We didn't even know what each other looked like for a few weeks. Somehow, words were enough.
A month later, he came home for a few weeks on recruiter's leave.
March 21, 2009, we had our very first meeting, our very first date.
He strolled into Morrison Hall wearing his dress blues.
My, he was handsome. And tall. And breaking the rules.
Our "open house" hours highly regulated when members of the opposite sex could be in our girls' dorm, yet he was unaware and walked right up to my door. From the doorway of each room he passed, girls stuck their heads out to see where he was headed.
Heads were turning. And he was headed toward me.
He drove his brother's car to the Olive Garden in town.
He gave me a rose.
We both ordered dinner and didn't eat more than a few bites--we were way too nervous.
How can that be? We could talk up a storm on the phone, but now, face to face, it was different.
We headed back to campus and sat under a tree. I had sworn up and down that I'd never kiss someone on a first date. Boy, was I a liar.
When he had to fly back to Cali, I felt like my heart was ripped out.
We decided we were dating, as much as we could separated by hundreds of miles.
We managed to talk every single day.
He was still my very best friend.
He was my PFC.
During summer break, I scored a job at our public library back home in the country.
It was the very best job for nerdy me.
Until the day that Mike walked in, looking for a book.
Remember him?
I'm certain he wasn't looking for me, but he sure seemed like he was happy to have found me again.
Did I want to go out on Friday?
I considered myself already taken.
He said he'd call.
I'd skimmed enough Cosmo magazines to know that he wouldn't.
Until Friday night came, and I was IM'ing my now LCpl, and Mike pulled in the driveway.
I'm sure I muttered some not-nice things.
In a panic, I told my older sister Krystal that there was no way I could go anywhere with him. What would my LCpl think of me if I did? She said there was no way I could answer the door and tell him no. She said she'd go with me.
Poor Mike. He showed up in khakis and a button-up shirt to take me out on a hot date, and he ended up with two of us Bates girls. Poor thing.
We ended up at some outdoor concert thrown by some church in town. Later, it was on to a coffee shop. I didn't even like coffee then, so I'm sure I settled for a hot chocolate while Mike chatted away with my sister. Poor thing.
He dropped us off at home and never called again.
I suppose I'm not surprised.
When I told my LCpl about it on IM later, he found it hilarious.
Me, un-dateable, with two guys vying for my attention.
Who woulda thought?
August 5th, 1999, my LCpl came home. Done with training in Cali.
Another semester of school started and ended, complete with a big realization for me: my major was not meant to be. I was pre-med, because, why not? Yet I failed my human anatomy and physiology class (and understand that failing, for me, was pulling a C). During lectures on muscles and ligaments, I was thinking about my Marine (doesn't that count, if it's still partly on topic?). I changed majors, changed colleges, and proceeded on.
Except Christmas came.
As did a surprise marriage proposal that morning.
And tears.
And a "yes".
August 5th, 2000, my Cpl really did become mine.
13 years, 3 deployments, and 4 kids later, here we are.
Matthew, the guy I lied to about a prom date, is reportedly a successful IT guy and married.
I actually ran into Mike years ago at a gun and knife show. He seemed like he had moved on. (shocking, right?)
I never, ever did go to prom. Except there's the birthday ball each and every year. I think I've attended 15 of them so far. No bitterness there.
God certainly answered my prayers.
Then I married him.
I had a slew of boyfriends during high school.
However, they were all crushes established only in my head.
I was, quite honestly, un-dateable.
My junior year, there was a boy that asked me to prom.
Came up to me while I was at my locker.
He was well-known as a nerd.
And I, who always earned straight A's, didn't need more help in that category.
I was quiet. Intelligent (if I'm being honest). Had a small group of friends. Schoolwork was a priority for me, as was church on the weekends. Most of my peers saw me as a nerd, stuck-up, quiet.
Even though I didn't care much about my social ranking, I didn't need a fellow nerd to pull me down further.
I was already going with someone else, I told him.
Except that was a lie.
I was hoping that Mike would ask me.
You see, Mike had asked me, months ago, if I wanted to go out some time.
I hoped prom would be just that time.
Except he had found someone else, a new girl at school.
Yet all through high school, I was praying.
For my future husband. That God would prepare him to be the person I needed him to be, and that God would do the same with me for him. That He'd protect him, grow him, challenge him.
My freshman year at a private Christian college, still no boyfriend.
Most of my friends had someone they were dating.
I started dressing a little differently.
I started wearing make-up.
I started praying harder.
February 14th, 1999, I was in my dorm room studying.
My roommate Jamie was not. She was the social butterfly, and she was good for me.
She was also so good for me that she let me use her computer, because mine was worthless.
We were in the days of dial-up and AOL Instant Messenger.
That was, quite possibly, the coolest thing this farm girl had ever seen.
So then what is a farm girl to do when she's using her roommate's computer and some high school friend of hers IM's her?
She did the right thing. She explained who she was, where the roommate was, and when she'd be back.
He was a good friend of hers, had a locker next to hers in high school, had joined the Marine Corps, and had stopped going to church. She had been bugging him to find a church.
He wanted to tell her that on that day, he finally went back to church.
Except he kept chatting.
And then he called. We just talked and talked and talked. I stayed up way too late, thanks to the three-hour time difference between Indiana and California. Some nights it was so late that I stretched our telephone cord through the entire room, under the door, and into the hallway, where I could talk without keeping the roomie awake.
We talked about everything under the sun.
Oddly enough, from opposite ends of the country, we became best friends. We didn't even know what each other looked like for a few weeks. Somehow, words were enough.
A month later, he came home for a few weeks on recruiter's leave.
March 21, 2009, we had our very first meeting, our very first date.
He strolled into Morrison Hall wearing his dress blues.
My, he was handsome. And tall. And breaking the rules.
Our "open house" hours highly regulated when members of the opposite sex could be in our girls' dorm, yet he was unaware and walked right up to my door. From the doorway of each room he passed, girls stuck their heads out to see where he was headed.
Heads were turning. And he was headed toward me.
He drove his brother's car to the Olive Garden in town.
He gave me a rose.
We both ordered dinner and didn't eat more than a few bites--we were way too nervous.
How can that be? We could talk up a storm on the phone, but now, face to face, it was different.
We headed back to campus and sat under a tree. I had sworn up and down that I'd never kiss someone on a first date. Boy, was I a liar.
When he had to fly back to Cali, I felt like my heart was ripped out.
We decided we were dating, as much as we could separated by hundreds of miles.
We managed to talk every single day.
He was still my very best friend.
He was my PFC.
During summer break, I scored a job at our public library back home in the country.
It was the very best job for nerdy me.
Until the day that Mike walked in, looking for a book.
Remember him?
I'm certain he wasn't looking for me, but he sure seemed like he was happy to have found me again.
Did I want to go out on Friday?
I considered myself already taken.
He said he'd call.
I'd skimmed enough Cosmo magazines to know that he wouldn't.
Until Friday night came, and I was IM'ing my now LCpl, and Mike pulled in the driveway.
I'm sure I muttered some not-nice things.
In a panic, I told my older sister Krystal that there was no way I could go anywhere with him. What would my LCpl think of me if I did? She said there was no way I could answer the door and tell him no. She said she'd go with me.
Poor Mike. He showed up in khakis and a button-up shirt to take me out on a hot date, and he ended up with two of us Bates girls. Poor thing.
We ended up at some outdoor concert thrown by some church in town. Later, it was on to a coffee shop. I didn't even like coffee then, so I'm sure I settled for a hot chocolate while Mike chatted away with my sister. Poor thing.
He dropped us off at home and never called again.
I suppose I'm not surprised.
When I told my LCpl about it on IM later, he found it hilarious.
Me, un-dateable, with two guys vying for my attention.
Who woulda thought?
August 5th, 1999, my LCpl came home. Done with training in Cali.
Another semester of school started and ended, complete with a big realization for me: my major was not meant to be. I was pre-med, because, why not? Yet I failed my human anatomy and physiology class (and understand that failing, for me, was pulling a C). During lectures on muscles and ligaments, I was thinking about my Marine (doesn't that count, if it's still partly on topic?). I changed majors, changed colleges, and proceeded on.
Except Christmas came.
As did a surprise marriage proposal that morning.
And tears.
And a "yes".
August 5th, 2000, my Cpl really did become mine.
13 years, 3 deployments, and 4 kids later, here we are.
Matthew, the guy I lied to about a prom date, is reportedly a successful IT guy and married.
I actually ran into Mike years ago at a gun and knife show. He seemed like he had moved on. (shocking, right?)
I never, ever did go to prom. Except there's the birthday ball each and every year. I think I've attended 15 of them so far. No bitterness there.
God certainly answered my prayers.
I love, love, LOVE this. Sometimes I think I have never met a more perfectly suited couple. And then we go camping and sit around the campfire :)
ReplyDeleteAnd your Marine is super tall. And super in love with you. And you are super blessed!