Projectile Vomit Inducing

It's our love story.  Awww.

I met my husband when he was six and I was seven.  He was the cute little redheaded kid who lived around the corner.  I remember vague things about him: he was spoiled, I never saw his parents, I went from having a crush on him (and him being repulsed) to him having a crush on me (and me being repulsed).  We played truth-or-dare under the neighbor's house and it always resulted in little pecks and blurted affections.  I would have his cousin pass him notes in elementary school and fill me in on the things I didn't know.

I don't remember much of him from middle school.  I think that was the phase during which I was too good for him.

I remember him in high school.  At some point in those early years, he shot up.  Became the sexy redheaded kid.  He was always in the peripheral.  I remember expressing to my best friend my interest in him.  And some how my interest became her interest and I remember seeing her cornering him.

He was always one of the first to arrive.  Always at school, always a good student.  Diligent.  I was a year ahead of him and we only ever had one class together - Astronomy.  We both took French, though, and even though his French was probably better than mine, Mme Elliot knew of my crush and would encourage him to study with me.  He never did.  And in Astronomy, it was always jokes.  Laughter.  He would never talk to me.

One day, near the end of my Senior year, I followed him out to the parking lot and gave him a note with my number.  Told him to call.  I remember that my hand shook as I handed it to him and.. he never called.

Fast forward several years, April 2006.  I'm in college, he's in college.  I've seen his little blue Honda drive past my house (out of his way).  I know he's not studying in my city.  I'm about six months out of a broken engagement, living on my own and towards the end of the shitshow that had become my single life.  And introduce Facebook to the equation.

I found him on Facebook and added him as a friend, never thinking that he would accept.  It would have been just another rejection from the redhead.  I remember that I was working at my temp job at an aviation repair company, trying not to gouge out my eyeballs.  FB was relatively fresh back then, so they didn't have it blocked.  And I was killing time.  So, I added him.  And then I squealed, quietly, to myself two hours later when I saw that he had accepted and sent me a note.

I wish to fucking god that I still had that note.  Damn you FB upgrades.

The gist was that he was incredibly apologetic for being a scared douche in high school, for rejecting me so many times, that I was beautiful and that the next time he was in town, we ought to get lunch or something.

We've been together ever since.

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