My husband Bobby and I have a unique love story. It really is “boy meets girl,” because we met in the sixth grade, in the fall of 1989. Bobby was the New Kid at our school, and despite my hairsprayed bangs and glasses, he “liked” the 12-year-old me. (He likes to point out that he was still 11, since his birthday is a couple of month after mine.)
It was unrequited love for awhile, but I eventually came around and figured out how awesome he was, two years later, when we were in the 8th grade. We “dated” all through 8th grade, if you can call it that. He was my boyfriend and I was his girlfriend and we were a THING. Our young love even continued on into 9th grade, when we were voted by our classmates to be the homecoming court representatives for the freshman class. Feast your eyes on this 1992 GOODNESS:
Soccer player and cheerleader, what could be more perfect? I mean, age 15 was REALLY good for us. Well, as Bobby likes to point out, HE was still 14 here. I had just turned 15, and he wouldn’t follow me until November.
As it turns out, it was all downhill from there. A few weeks after homecoming, Bobby broke up with me. (He was still 14 then, too. LOL.) My heart was broken, truly. My first big heartbreak, and I cried and cried.
We were never again, either of us, voted on to the homecoming court. Freshman year was as good as it got. We peaked at age fifteen.
Somehow, though, because we are VERY good at being cliché, we stayed friends. Sophomore and junior year we talked on the phone, went to movies, and hung out by ourselves and in groups, as really good friends. Best friends, even, as much as a guy and girl can be best friends as teens. We both dated other people, but we were always close.
The came another September, another fall. This time not our freshman year, but our senior year. I had just turned 18. (And as he will want me to point out, HE WAS STILL SEVENTEEN at the time.) Everything changed one day, during 2nd period when Bobby had an accident (if you must know the details, they are here). Bobby and I spent tons of time together while he was recovering. I had a long-distance boyfriend who soon dumped me, and well, one thing led to another.
By December I was his girlfriend again, and this time we both knew it was forever. We dated through senior year, graduated high school, stayed together even though we were at separate colleges, and got married in March 2000 (happy anniversary by the way, babe!) At age 22– BOTH of us were 22 at that time! Here’s some year 2000 GOODNESS:
It was really windy and my veil was jammed in my head with 4,000 bobby pins and I was in dire pain here. But, adorable pic, right??
When we’d meet new people who would ask how we met, I’d tell them the story. “We met in 6th grade.” They would inevitably follow up with “Wow! Did you DATE that whole time?” I’d respond to that with a brief history of our dating life, including our first breakup and stint on homecoming court. “We peaked at fifteen” was a favorite joke of mine. I used it again recently when my freshman nephew and his special friend-who-is-also-a-girl were made his school’s homecoming court representatives. “Don’t be like me and Uncle Bobby,” I joked, “Don’t peak at 15!”
This past week I came across that photo of us above, our homecoming court photo. I have it saved on my phone. And the “peaked at 15” joke flashed in my head.
But the truth is, we didn’t peak at 15. No, we’ve never been voted on for any awards by our kids since then, but we’ve done pretty well. Especially me.
I’ve done well because, I’ve got him. He’s been my husband for 17 years this month, which makes me the lady with the best and the most that anyone could ever want.
He’s done a lot of things over those 17 years that no one every wins an award for. Like, help his post c-section, super-sick wife pull her postpartum hospital undies up and down and help me get on and off the toilet (that’s also a FUN STORY), just four short years after I was his blushing bride. Like, change every diaper on that first baby boy for an entire week so I didn’t have to get up and down when I wasn’t feeling up to it. Like work really, really hard at the same job to provide for his family. Like, this past weekend, do every. single. thing. for an entire weekend of birthday parties for that baby boy who is now THIRTEEN, because I hurt my back and could barely move. Like order dinner in for my BFF and me and take the kids OUT, so I could have some girl time with my friend from the comfort of my couch because I’m still not up to moving around much.
The truth is, I’m not sure if I’ve peaked yet. But I know WE haven’t. This man shows me every day how good and sweet and wonderful he is. And at age 39 (yes we’re BOTH 39, but you can bet he’s SUPER-EXCITED about me turning FORTY before he does this year!!), every time I think he couldn’t be any better, he proves me wrong.
However, he DID let me put eyeliner on him for this 80s rock star Halloween costume this past year. (I was Richard Simmons, sexy, right?) So….maybe we peaked last October (when yes, I was 39 but he was STILL 38)…this is gonna be HARD to top!
I love you, babe. Thanks for being more than I could ever dream of.