I loved my Lumberjack when we got married. But my love for him then was so minuscule compared to my love for him now. The comfort and support he gives me every single day is incredible, and I can't imagine spending one day of my life not married to him.
In celebrating the last amazing year of our lives, I thought it only appropriate to share how my Lumberjack and I met, just five years ago.....
It was August 24, 2004. We were freshman at Point Loma Nazarene University in San Diego. After being assigned to a small group for our Psychology 101 class, I found myself sitting on the roof to the PLNU athletic training building with 11 strangers--two senior psychology majors and 10 other freshman, who were as confused and excited as I was. We sat in a circle, cross-legged on top of the building, overlooking the athletic field and then the vast ocean that lay before us, much like the future in our simple college-freshman eyes. We went around and said our names. He was cute--fair skin, blue eyes, light brown hair--but it was far from love at first sight.
Over the next few sessions, twice a week for one hour, we got to know each other more. He loved Metallica and basketball; he grew up in San Diego with his two brothers and parents, still married after 25 years. He was "passionate," I wrote in my journal about him.
By Labor Day, he had a girlfriend. And it wasn't me.
He started dating a girl who played for the basketball team. I was less than crushed, after promising myself I wouldn't waste my time on silly boys like I did in high school. I told myself that the next time I date someone--the next time I kiss someone--it's going to mean something.
The Lumberjack and I continued to see each other in class, and we became friends. Within two weeks, his relationship with the basketball player had ended, and he was on to better things: namely, me. We started spending more time together--he'd come over to my room during open dorm to watch movies, and wasn't the least bit deterred when he learned another boy was pining after me. In fact, the Lumberjack encouraged Boy #1 to make a move, or he would, which led to a very awkward conversation when Boy #1 asked me out. I thought Boy #1 was gay. Oops.
Later that week, the Lumberjack was in my room for another open dorm night, and he asked me to dinner. Trying my best to uphold the standards that I had set for myself (and being slightly cruel, I'll admit), I said, "Sure, as friends."
Ouch.
I remember thinking that I didn't want to be his second girlfriend in a month. I wasn't at college to date; I was there to earn a degree and get the best education possible.
When he told me he didn't want to be my friend, I remember thinking he was brave. Not many men would face rejection so boldly and go back in for more.
But he did.
If you ask him now why he stayed around for more, he would tell you that after I commented to him that "making out should be a sport," (yes, I was brazen in my young age), he knew he wanted to know more about me.
And so, the Lumberjack continued to be my friend. We'd spend time together in group settings: going out to movies, eating at the Caf together or attending freshmen-themed events. He even befriended a girl on my hall whom I had grown close to--a sly move.
She came to me one night and told me that the Lumberjack had said "She doesn't know it yet, but she's going to be my girl," about the prospect of dating me.
What an ass--I thought.
But he was persistent. One night, out at a movie with some of our mutual friends, I commented that I was tired and he offered me his shoulder to sleep on.
"No, thanks," I replied.
Now, the Lumberjack lovingly refers to this as Rejection #2.
And he was ready to give up. It was one thing for me to reject him privately, but doing it in public got to him.
I don't remember much of the following week. I do remember getting pneumonia and, right before I left for home, he handed me the sweetest "Get Well" card he could find, even if I didn't deserve it.
When I returned to school the next week, he now admits he had nearly given up on me. But, that Friday, October 22, I asked him if he wanted to see a movie with me, and he accepted.
He expected me to bring a bunch of my girlfriends. I didn't.
The Lumberjack and I took the campus shuttle to the Fashion Valley mall where we split a pepperoni pizza at Chicago Uno. He paid, he admits, just in case it actually was a date. We walked around the mall, taking about our lives and our goals while we waited for our movie to start. At one point, I discovered his middle brother was the same age as my sister and I suggested we go on a double date sometime. And he asked, "So, is this a date?"
Yes, it was. Our first date of many. We continued the night by watching "Shark Tale" together, which to this day is very "us."
But the rejection wasn't over yet. At the end of the night, he asked if he could kiss me.
And I said, "No," telling him that he could kiss me on our second date.
But I didn't make him wait that long. Two days later, we went for a walk and I stopped rejecting him. In fact, I made the first move and kissed him (when I told my mom that I had made the first move, she called me a "brazen hussy"). It was the best first kiss of my life.
Four days after that, the Lumberjack asked me if we could be exclusive, and we were.
And, while his dorm mates called me his "October girlfriend," I knew I was so much more than that.
Above, Christmas at my parents' house, Dec. 2004. This was our first photo together and the first time he met my parents.
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