It’s not often that I use the blog as a platform for love and mushiness but with our big announcement last week, I figured this was as good a time as any.
5 years ago today I went on a date with my best friend’s brother’s best friend from college. We watched the Illini get their butts kicked (shocker, I know) and drank beer on empty stomachs because neither of us were willing to admit we were starving. I called my sister afterwards and offered every lame excuse in the book as to why this probably wouldn’t amount to anything:
I don’t know he’s not that tall.
He lives in the suburbs.
He seems a little shy.
He might be a little too muscular.
Yes. Believe it or not, I tried to justify being too muscular as a reason that this relationship would not work out.
This is probably one of the few times in my life where I will willingly admit the following:
I was wrong.
He stands taller than all 5’7″ of me, even in four-inch heels.
He drove back and forth from the suburbs for nearly 5 years so that we could spend time together in the city.
He may be an introvert to the masses, but he’s quite the talker if you get him around his family, friends or anything sports-related.
And yes. He is very muscular.
He’s the calm to my storm, the focus to my inspiration and the decision to my waver.
5 years down, a lifetime to go.