BD and I went out last night on a real, live date. We usually go out to eat once a week sans kids, but it’s usually a quick dinner around 6 – when all the old people are just finishing up. Last night, the kids stayed somewhere else and for once, we didn’t have to be home at any given time. We went to dinner late when all the cool-people-without-children eat, drank a lot of wine and went to a late night Christmas-themed burlesque show a friend of mine was in, which was a first for both of us. The dancing ladies paid particularly close attention to BD, (maybe because my friend told them to), and we just laughed and cat called and a tipsy BD even was pulled up on stage to dance. It felt like we were 22 again and I was transported back to a time before marriage, mortgages, and motherhood. And apocalypse planning and terrible hang overs. But I won’t lie — it was totally. mindblowingly. awesome.
And at some point during the evening, “Round Here” by the Counting Crows came on (which is the best heaping helping of awesomeness ever served up in a pop song, EVER) and we discovered for the first time, after being together 10 years, that both of us distinctly remembers exactly where we were the first time we heard that song. It was a defining moment for both us, like where we were when the Challenger blew up and JFK Jr.’s plane went down and 9/11. And it was the same moment for both of us too– when the Counting Crows were on SNL in 1994 — that we both heard it. Proof that across time and space we were totally meant to be (don’t fight me on this, quantum physicists). Anyway, that got me thinking of a note I wrote to myself a month later when I was a senior in high school, after a particularly bad relationship, which turned out to be eerily prescient. Its one of the only things I wrote that year that isn’t both hilarious and atrocious in its over-the-top ridiculousness, although it is still both of those in many parts.
Anyway, it’s time to put it out there, but not without my additional comments in red. This one’s for you, BD:
To The ‘One’:
I wonder what you’re doing now. I wonder where you live and I wonder, God forbid, if I know you. My guess is that I’ll meet you in college and I guess that’s about the right time for me, but we’ll see. Well, I just broke up with another boyfriend, and probably things which I had experienced with him, I’ll remember when I’m with you.
Like I hope that you aren’t obsessive, whether it is with a drug, a person , an idea, or even me. I also hope you aren’t the jealous type, someone who smothers me and demands all of my attention and time. Although I hope to spend my entire life with you, and be in love with you always and forever, I just don’t want us to lose OURSELVES.
I won’t define myself as YOUR wife, but a huge part of me will be dedicated to our relationship and your happiness and well-being.
So, a friend is setting me up with another guy. Who knows? It could be you. Then again, I could do something or experience something with this guy which may, even in a small way, affect us (hopefully I wasn’t talking about contracting HIV). Kind of strange, huh? I mean, everyday I get closer to the one that I’ll meet you, and I wonder if I’ll even know the significance of it. Have you ever thought that the first time you set your eyes on someone, you could know in that instant that you were going to fall in love with them? It’s never happened (obviously) to me, but I think that when and if it does, he will be you (HA! This part came true). I don’t know if this is strange, because I’m only 17, but all I want to do right now is find the one I’m going to marry (you) and do it ASAP. If I’m 20, and I know it’s you, I’ll be ready to get married as soon as it’s convenient. (Really? As soon as it’s convenient?) I guess I assume you’ll feel the same way, but I guess I also assume we’ll agree on almost everything (um, no.).
I wonder if you’ll be as in love with me as I will be with you. My last boyfriend says that my husband will be whipped (meaning able to make all of his opinions, beliefs and thoughts fit to my own) also meaning (when asked to do something, does it for no other reason than that he was asked) (My last boyfriend was also a total ass). Well, I know if that’s being whipped, its where I’ll be. I guess I believe a married couple should be (um, no.). Well, cheers to one day less I’ll have to wait before meeting you, love.
Love always, Love
So it didn’t all turn out like I thought it would. BD and I met after college, but it turns out we were actually in the same class at the same university and just never met, even though we shared several mutual friends. And it turns out that the first time I saw BD, I did know he was to be my husband. Because I’m psycho psychic like that. However, I wouldn’t say that either of us is whipped, by my ex-boyfriend’s definition at 17. We do not agree on everything, especially as it relates to the best way to mix up packets of instant oatmeal (hot tap water, obviously), whether LED light bulbs are the worst things ever invented, or the best (they are the worst), or how many dish towels are necessary for one household (the more, the merrier, I maintain).
But all in all, I did alright. Sure, I had to stalk him, and it took a year for that first (terrible) date, but with Oprah’s encouragement, I finally landed him and started living my best life — and now I have BD, bacchanalias and burlesque. What else do I need?