I was in the middle of writing a post about my newly found domestic skills, but I stopped for a moment and thought to myself –
WHO CARES ABOUT YOU DOING THE LAUNDRY?! NOOOOOBODY!
So I’m going to do you all a favor and NOT bore you with a post about me doing the dishes or cleaning the living room. Just know that I’m totally better at not being a slob, and my kitchen sparkles like those stupid vampires in that one terrible movie series. Ohhhh yeah.
Mom powers...not to be trifled with.
Since I’m NOT going to write something boring, what shall I write about? How I met my husband? How my mom has crazy, slightly creepy mom-powers that I may one day develop? How my cat is a total spaz and is running around the house like a maniac? Let’s start with the easy one: How I Met My Husband.
The year is 2006. I was 19, and living at home. It was actually my second time living at home; I had moved out at 18, made some really dumb mistakes, and moved back into my mom’s house. As some of you moms with grown children can confirm, once the kid is out, the room becomes whatever you want it to be: spare bedroom, second office, sewing room, or in my step-dad’s case…old phone museum. When I moved back into my old room, I got to share it with a full-size telephone booth. Not as cool as it sounds, actually.
On the evening of October 14th I had plans to go to a friend’s birthday party at a church around the corner from my house. (This date is very easy for me to remember, since it is my mom’s birthday. Looking back, I was a butthead for not cooking her dinner or something. Sorry Mom! ) I got to the building, and immediately got lost; the place was enormous, and had far too many hallways. Finally I found the right room, and once I entered I realized I was the only girl there. There’s a difference between being early, and being too early; I’m pretty sure I fell into the second category. The scene I was greeted with was a group of guys clustered around a tv screen, playing Mario Kart and yelling insults at each other.
I turned around and sat in my car for a half hour, then returned once I saw other guests had arrived.
OH WAIT! That’s not at all correct.
Peach sucks. If you choose Peach as your racer, we can't be friends.
I walked into the room, tossed my purse on a couch, and demanded a controller. There were only three guys playing, so OF COURSE I’m gonna want to be the fourth player. I sit down next to a big redheaded dude and a shorter dark haired dude (whom I shall henceforth refer to as “Cute Guy”) and in the course of about 4 minutes, become the new Mario Kart champion. Cute Guy turned and stared at me in disbelief.
“You beat me?! I am the KING of Mario Kart! How did you do that?”
I shrug my shoulders and grin. “Lucky, I guess.” Pfft, lucky? But he was cute and I didn’t want to hurt his gamer status with his friends.
Jonathan: “I had no idea who she was, but since I love video games (and I’m sure everyone at the party was a friend) I immediately asked her if she wanted to be the fourth player in Mario Kart 64. The first game, I was in first place the whole time, until on the last lap, this chick manages to swoop in front and beats me! At my own game! I am king of Mario Kart 64, man. KING. And yet she beat me. Who is this girl…who does she think she is?! She was nice about it though, she didn’t flaunt her win. She then proceeded to lose the following game, so I don’t know if it was luck or she was letting us guys win on purpose. I kinda liked it.”
By then other people had started showing up, so Cute Guy and I drifted apart. I’m gonna be honest; the whole reason I was at this party was because I had a mad crush on my coworker. However, he barely said a word to me the whole night, so I gave it up as a lost cause. He was moving to Tennessee in a month, so nothing would have come of it anyway.
Try as I might, I could not remember Cute Guy’s name. Joshua? Donovan? Something like that. I’d get it later, but in a sneaky way so I didn’t look like a moron. Later on in the evening, a bunch of people decided they wanted to watch X-Men 3, so we all crammed together on a tiny couch in front of the tv. As it would happen, I ended up sitting next to Cute Guy. He had snagged a tiny blanket from the nursery in the next room, and asked me if I’d like to share it. The thing was really only big enough for one person (and that’s a generous assessment) so in order to use it for two people, they’d really have to snuggle up close.
Jonathan: “I’m a cuddler. I love to cuddle; with girls, with my bros, with my cat. I wasn’t trying to hit on her, really, but she was cute and it was kind of cold in the room. Win-win, amiright?”
So, we cuddle up close (really, the entire couch was cuddled up close; 6 people on a 3 person couch means you’re all sitting on top of each other) and try to keep our toes from losing blanket coverage. This was difficult, since Cute Guy had gigantic Hobbit feet. (“Hey! I was wearing socks!” – J)
Halfway through the movie he turns to tell me something, and stops mid-sentence. ‘Whoa” he says, “You look exactly like Rogue.” (FYI: Anna Paquin before she went blonde, and minus the diastema) I actually get this a lot, so I wasn’t surprised.
I guess I can see a resemblance? Whatever.
Soon, the movie was over, and I was getting kinda tired. I still hadn’t managed to recover Cute Guy’s name, so I hung around a little bit longer. He and the big red haired dude (Mark. I remembered that one. I kinda have a thing for redheads…) put in Dumb and Dumber, and proceeded to laugh like hyenas the entire time. About halfway through, I couldn’t take it any longer. I pulled him aside and gave him a hastily scribbled note with “myname@MySpace.com.” In my half-awake mind, this address made sense. I told him to hit me up and we’d hang out or something, and then I left.
A couple days later he sends me a message, and I finally remember his name is Jonathan. We end up hanging out quite a bit: on the Foresthill bridge at night, talking about our hobbies; watching Smallville (mmm, Tom Welling); climbing up the sides of the train tunnel to sit and talk (and all the while I’m thinking I’m gonna fall off and die on the tracks below…)
At last, after 3 months of just hanging out, he gets the picture and asks me to be his girlfriend. It was so romantic – NOT. He asked me in the parking lot of Best Buy, at midnight, while my mom was repeatedly called my cell phone to tell me it was past my curfew and I had better get my butt back home.
Ah…young, nerdy love.
Clearly, I can see your...boogers.
