It was wonderfully surprising to me that after I broke my guy's heart in 7th grade, he still talked to me occasionally. We didn't share much more than small talk, but I was glad for that.
One day early in our 10th grade school year (we were 15), I arrived home from school, ate a Little Debbie fudge round, watched a repeat of Who's The Boss? on tv, and then the phone rang.
It was Ryan. I was shocked, surprised, stunned. I didn't know what to say. He confided in me the current events of his life. His parents were getting a divorce. He knew I'd gone through that myself, so he wanted to talk about it.
We talked for close to an hour. During the phone call, I was walking all over my living room, my feet wearing a path in the yellowy goldy greeny carpet. I would step up on the couch and walk across it too. My skin felt tingly, my brain felt mushy.
I have no idea what I said to him.
But it must not have been that bad, because he called again a few days later. Eventually it became a routine that went on for months. I'd come home, have a snack and watch tv, then he'd call. We talked about everything under the sun. Except how I was falling in love with him. I never mentioned that.
He had begun dating someone else, that's why. I felt confused! Conflicted! Since he clearly considered me only a friend, I didn't want to pine away, so I began dating someone else too. Each of us quickly realized that these other people didn't float our boats, and we were both single again.
One morning after church, he asked me to go Christmas shopping with him. I said yes. I don't think this was really a date, but it sure was electrically charged!
We had a few dates after that. Sparks positively flew. One evening we sat on his living room couch watching "Memoirs of an Invisible Man." I put my hand on the couch between us. He put his hand on the couch between us. I swear, lightning was striking right between those hands. We inched them closer together. Finally we held hands. and it was insane.
On January 3, 1994 we officially became a couple, and have stayed that way.
The next month we went to a Valentine's dance. I can't believe I'm going to post this picture. It is exceedingly embarrassing. But, eh, who cares. Here we are at the dance, newly 16:
I don't know which are bigger, the flowers on my dress or the ones on my wrist corsage. But I will honor the girl I was back then, and not say another word about it. Besides, we were super in love and so looking at this picture gives me such a lovely feeling.