When I was fresh out of college (Furman University), I moved to North Carolina to be close to the boy I thought I was going to marry. And then he broke my heart by breaking up with me.
On my birthday.
On the day I was convinced I was getting the ring.
Had my friends and family on speed dial for the big announcement.
It was because of another woman.
Who he'd spent too much time with and money on.
I not only had to endure horrible dinner but had to pay for it as well.
And then he had the audacity to ask me to put gas in his car for the ride back to her.
I was in shock.
Otherwise I would have called him a name that rhymes with gas.
That name is also in the Bible but that's sort of irrelevant.
I went back to my apartment, unplugged the phone, and stayed in bed until my hair was so greasy that it literally stuck to my pillow- with a little help of the vast amounts of tears and snot that occurs when there is heaving and weeping.
One day I decided to wash my hair and go back out into the world.
I met two of my best friends in the whole wide world that very day.
A boy named Dean. A girl named Suzy.
We clicked and laughed and did life together in the most fun of ways.
Dean was the brother I never had. And he hated every boy I tried to date.
Until one day he called me with a shocking announcement.
He said he'd played golf with the man I was going to marry.
And he was right.
By the way, mean- birthday dumping- gas boy called about this time and wanted me back.
Oh the joy of saying no! Glorious, glorious no!
So I could say yes to something so, so much better!
When I started spending lots of time with Art--- Dean and Suzy fell in love.
They were married a year after me and Art.
(Fade to black, roll the names, play that happy song- as the wise Hannah Montana would say or sing as the case may be.)
Now 15 years, 7 kids (our 5- their 2), and homes that are many states away from one another later, we are still amazingly close friends.
And this week we are with them- skiing- without the 7 kids.
But first I had to take a photo of my hubby yesterday on the plane. Handsome he is, fashonista he is not. I laughed so hard at his choice of socks yesterday! I mean we are supposed to be setting the stage for romance this weekend! And he wore tan pants, brown shoes and BLACK ANKLE SOCKS!
And it made me love him even more.
Thank you God for frequent flier miles and friends who have a house close to wide open white spaces.
And for black ankle socks too- which reminds me of a very funny little song- I'll change the words to make them fit----
He's too sexy for his socks.
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