Sometimes at parties the women take turns telling how they met their mate. I would have to say, “I don’t remember.” Sounds bad doesn’t it, but I was about 5 years old. Give me a break!
The first memory I have of the boy that would someday be my husband is from first grade. I was laying on the couch in the school hallway waiting for my mom to pick me up. I had thrown up but I wasn’t really sick, even then my gag reflex was strong. He was walking in line with his class on the way to their room and the boys taunted me with cries of “sickie.” Now that’s the way to meet the future love of your life.
Pile that on top of the fact that he was a yucky boy and I really did not like him.
A year later we were both attending a small private academy. He was able to torture me further with spit balls, getting me out in rousing games of kickball, and narrowly beating me in the Bible reading competition. By 4th grade I had a crush on him; by 8th grade I hated him.
We both recall a time in our early teen years when we called a truce on the animosity. My mom was working in the school office and I would wait for her to be done after school was out. He hung around and played Frisbee with me. Neither of us can remember how it got started. He would show up with a Frisbee after school and we would stand on each side of the field throwing it back and forth. We didn’t even speak 5 words to each other. It was just catch and throw, catch and throw. I didn’t want the other kids to know that I was playing Frisbee with him. When they found out, I quit.
On it went through high school and youth group. He hit me in the face with a mud ball; I pulled the plug dumping his supersoaker tank and drenching him. He would hold the door for me, but when I grudgingly said, “Thank you” he’d reply with, “You’re not welcome.” I perfected the art of ignoring his existence. No one would have been able to call us friends.
So how did we ever get married? I’ll continue if you’re interested in hearing more.
The links for the rest of the story are on My Romance page.