The story of us...

I grew up in the Washington, DC suburbs.  I went to college at a small, liberal arts school in NC.  I used to say that no one would have ever heard of it, but after the millions and trillions of dollar expansions that have been done, I see kids around here rocking their purple sweatshirts all the time.  Let's just say it was not quite the same country club while I was there.  College was fabulous. I was in a sorority (aka- drinking club) and somehow managed to keep up with my studies. I really enjoyed interning at a radio station and working at a coffee shop.  I had a few serious boyfriends- one freshman/sophomore year who was just a good egg.  Nice boy, nice family, just didn't work out (mostly my fault).  Junior year is a bit of a haze.  I lived in a 3 bedroom apartment with 5 of the wildest sorority sisters known to man.  Actually, make that 4.  One was a total bump on a log and the "voice of reason", but we managed to drown her out the majority of the time.  That year there were no "good egg" boys.  Mostly just cases of history repeating itself and not in a good way.  Senior year I met a total loser.  And I mean that in a nice way.  Just a good old dumb Southerner.  (No offense, y'all :)  Came from nothing, pulled himself up by his bootstraps and thought he was much smarter/popular/good looking/funny/adept at all things naked than he really was.  It was a relationship fraught with arguing, drama and I'm pretty sure we broke up at least once a week for over a year.  You know the kind- you didn't answer your phone, so he calls your friend, figures out what bar you are at, storms in, sees you talking to another guy from one of your classes, threatens to beat him up, storms out, and you all break up for the 2838th time - ON VALENTINE'S DAY.  And you get back together because he cries and calls you "baby doll" in such a pitiful southern accent that you can't be bothered with seeing the light.  I could go on and on about this relationship as I suppose it was a defining one.  The sad part?   I just wished I'd never let go of that good egg from before.  We dated until on and off until about 6 months post graduation- even at one point living together in a one bedroom apartment.  It is fitting that the very last straw was on a Valentine's Day.  I saw the light, moved back to VA- he latched on to a girl who he thought could pull him up from his humble beginnings and I saw some very lovely wedding pictures of the two of them- well, make that the three of them  (It doesn't matter how flattering your wedding dress is when you are nearly 5 months preggers).

So, what in the world does any of that have to do with the story of us?  Well, believe me.. if I hadn't dated a boy who used hand lotion on his "white boy fro" in lieu of hair gel (true story), I never would have realized how incredibly lucky I am to have ended up with a man like M.

So, after I moved back home to VA, I finagled a job at the company where my Dad worked.  I got a job in marketing in the engineering department and was pretty much miserable from day 1.  My boss was an angry man who thought nothing of screwing people over for fun.  It was a horrific commute and at the end of that commute each day I found myself living back in my childhood bedroom at my parents house.  Granted, I was only 22 at the time, so it wasn't like it was too out of the ordinary, but let's just say that was a phase I'd rather forget.  Bright spot at the office?  Working at an electrical/engineering company, there were only 3 single girls in their 20s in the office.  One was the VP's daughter so that was a no-no, the other was a little nerdy and that left me.  While I readily admit that I am no Heidi Klum- and I was carrying at least an extra 15 pounds of college kegger/bad breakup weight AND I for whatever stupid reason decided to chop my beautiful long blonde locks into an unforgiving bob- I was the only 20 something in an office of dudes.  And they loved me.  The accounting guy was delicious in a way that only people with perfect teeth and negligable IQs are.  We went to football games, drank a lot of beer, made out a lot and things fizzled out after one monday football game where he got drunk, made an ass of himself, nearly got murdered by blood-thirsty Pittsburgh fans and I had to drive home.  Then there was the Business Development guy.  A perfect waste of time.  I really went through a phase where I went after guys who thought they were much studlier than they really were.  I suppose we will be nice and call them "confident".  Anyhoo, this guy was a loser on par with the hand lotion guy.  It gave me something to do besides facebook all day at work, so he served his purpose.

Now on to my dashing DH.  He, too, worked at this life draining pit of a company and he was ACTUALLY an engineer.  Pretty wild.  When I first began my work there, he was overseas on a contract with the company.  We exchanged a few e-mails, none of them pleasant- he didn't get along with one of the higher ups and felt no issue with making that clear to me. I had to send him a few things and got a load of his birthdate- 8/10/71 and knew that even when he returned in a few months time, he was unlikely to be my next flavor of the month.  He was *gasp* 14 years older than me.

Fast forward a few months.  Still stringing along the dopey BD guy since there really wasn't much else going on.  M arrives into the office and I feel... nothing.  He is pleasant enough, but I am quick to let the others know that he is under no circumstances to be invited to "lunch bunch".  I remember his snarky e-mails and am pleasant but cool.

Time marches on.  M manages to ingrain his way into our lunch bunch (I mean, it was a bunch of 40 year old engineers talking shop in a basement cafeteria, so no real feat there...) and I find myself occasionally laughing at his poorly timed and ill-told jokes.  I find that he is warm and engaging and hates my boss just as much as I do.  But still...  he kind of looks like Scott Hamilton.  You know, the ice skater. Hmm.

One day there is a fire drill  in our building.  I am nursing an intense hangover and M picks up on this.  During the fire drill, he drives me around the corner to CVS for some emetrol to help my stomach.  "He's nice", I think.  We become friends.  After one particularly bad day at the office, he takes me out for French food.  We drink expensive wine and talk about our childhoods and laugh a lot.  I remember thinking that's how all dates should be- but hey, this wasn't a date.  Remember?  He's technically old enough to be my father.  He looks like Scott Hamilton.  Must be the wine.

We really develop a friendship after that.  We text during meetings about what douches we work with, join in on work happy hours and I take him to the airport when he gets sent back overseas for a few weeks.  Once he's home, he gets a belated birthday gift from our company- a dinner giftcard and a movie certificate.  I am standing near him and joke, "When are you taking me out?"  (I have recently started dating the hot accounting guy again... a glutton for cuteness, you could say)  He mumbles and stutters and we agree to go out later that week.

We hit the restaurant.  It's lovely.  He orders a Key Lime Pie Martini.  Ahh, it all makes sense why we get along so well- he's GAY!  But wait, wasn't he married before?  We see "Burn After Reading" which is a strange movie- especially when George Clooney fashions some sort of dildo horse... kind of awkward when you could be on a date, but it's not a date with a friend who may or may not be gay.  Hmm.  After dinner, M takes me out for drinks.  We laugh. A lot.

I get home (thankfully at this point I have seen the light and moved in with some girlfriends) and realize that was a really fun date.  But I just don't really like him.  Or do I?  I text him to tell him I got home- tell him that I am getting into my PJs and headed to bed.  He texts me back, "Lucky Jamies".  Oh brotherrrrrrrrrrr.  Of course, there's still that technicality that I am dating the guy in accounting.

Over the next few weeks, the accounting guy shows me again what a loser he is and I am left with a goregous dress and nothing to do on New Year's Eve.  I text M with my plight and he says it just so happens he has reservations for dinner & drinks at a club downtown.  His friend and friend's girlfriend are in town.  He later tells me he is relieved because the girl they were supposed to bring with them to be his date backed out at the last minute.

We go out- it is a fun night.  There is no kiss at midnight, just a friendly peck on the cheek.  I stay at his place since I have drank approximately 17 bottles of champagne and am in no condition to drive.  We watch Elf at 3AM and end up kissing.  It is actually very lovely.  The next morning, which could be awkward.. as in, hey coworker, we kissed last night and I slept in your bed see ya Monday... was actually pretty normal.  Until he kissed me again on the lips when he walked me to my car.  In broad daylight. Yikes.  :)

January 2009 was filled with actual dates.  He cooked for me, we saw a million movies, he adopted a doggie.  We went hiking and kissed in the elevator at work.  He started looking for a new job because I jokingly told him I wouldn't get naked with anyone I worked with.  (Ended up being a good thing as he is way smarter than those bozos)  It just felt right.

And it was.  In June 2009, my lease was up with girlfriends who were moving to the West Coast.  It wasn't practical to spend half my paycheck on a studio apartment when I was spending a lot of time at his house anyway.  The moment I realized that I loved him?  When he said I should move in.  And then casually said, "You know.. if you move in, and things don't work out- that doesn't have to be it.  It just means we're not ready to live together yet".  And it did work out.  That's not to say there weren't some bumps along the road.  There obviously were.  One being the fact that I was 24 and living with a 38 year old.  My Dad is pretty religious and while he is BFF obsessed with M now, that wasn't always the case.  But somehow we managed to hold on during the tough times.  We wove each other into our lives and into our families.  We've taken great trips- our first to London and the Maldives over New Year's 2009.  A great way to spend our first anniversary.  We both moved on from the horrific company where we met.  In June of 2010, he flew out Seattle to meet me.  I had spent the previous week there for a work conference.  He proposed on the Space Needle the day before my birthday.  We got married last New Year's Eve in DC and had our reception at the Mt. Vernon Inn on George Washington's estate.  We honeymooned and generally have spent the last few years thinking how lucky it was that our stars aligned and we get to be this happy.  Don't get me wrong- I'm very hard to please and incredibly oversensitive.  M talks too much about work and doesn't vacuum enough.  We nit pick and sulk and he hates it that I go to bed so early every night.  I don't know how he survives on the 4 hours he gets a night.  But when it comes down to it, the day I saw that second pink line on that pregnancy test I took on a bit of a lark... I knew in my heart that I couldn't have found a better father for my child.  And I think no matter how you get there, the fact that you did makes all the difference.

It was about 9:30 last night and I was about to turn out the light so I called downstairs with my perfunctory, "Goodnight I love you".  M came upstairs and we were chatting for a few minutes when it dawned on me.  It's just been the two of us (well, and Lucy... our four year old crazy yellow lab) for a long time.  I kind of panicked.  I kept commenting about how things will never be the same.  My (now) bald Scott Hamilton smiled his megawatt smile, kissed my belly and said, "Nope... it sure won't."

 I slept like a baby last night.