Our story makes no sense.
And in lieu of Valentines day, I will try to lay it out there as clearly as I am able, and you can help me try to figure out how we actually got married. Please don't get me wrong. I AM MARRIED TO A MARVELOUS MAN, AND I HAVE ZERO FEELINGS OF REGRETFULNESS. I mean, have you seen our baby? Who can regret the recipe that made that.(too much?)
First Encounter: It was early in September of 2008. School had just begun. I was returning for my second year of residence in Old Farm. Chesley was living there for the first time, just about to begin his helicopter flight training. Our singles ward Family Home Evening was taking place at one of our church leader's homes, so everyone was making their way there. I was already close friends with a couple of Chesley's room mates, so we ended up riding in the back of the same truck. I tried to talk to him. He didn't respond. I thought he was cute enough, but stuck on himself. I had written off attractive men because they never seemed to pay attention to me. He validated this on our first meeting. He claims that all he could see was my insane room mate acting like a lunatic, and doesn't remember me being there at all. (I don't even get a first impression? SO lame.)
Second Encounter: Sometime early in December, before finals and the desertion of campus, I was in my apartment just chatting it up with Mark Sam and Jenelyn (my two best friends from College who had the audacity to marry each other). Chesley walked through the door, told me he had heard I gave good back rubs, and asked me if I would give him one. I still can't figure out why I did it. I rubbed the backs of a large handful of strange boys that year. Weird.
Third Encounter: A few weeks later, campus had been forsaken by gleeful students who pranced to their various homes with the speed that only post-final elation plus Christmas joy can produce. I had to work, and Ches was not on a normal School schedule. We were two of the only people left in our apartment complex. He showed up at my apartment and asked if I wanted to play racquetball with him the next day. Neither of us had anything better to do, so I agreed to come to his apartment when I was off work, and we would go. The next afternoon was cold and gloomy. I could not muster the desire to walk back up the hill to the courts, so I just didn't walk the 20 steps to his apartment. We had an awkward encounter in the laundry room later when he asked why I hadn't showed.
Sidenote: The boy who had broken up with me earlier that year was in the room at the same time. I was mostly over him. As he put clothes from the washer to the dryer he told me that my excuse was really lame. I died a little inside.
Fourth Encounter: We played racquetball a day later. I didn't consider it a date, but apparently he did. (He will tell anyone who will listen that I stood him up for our first date. Falsehood. It wasn't a date. He had a girlfriend,(of which I was unaware) and only a weenie would have the girl show up at his house for the first date.) I was surprised that we talked really easily, and I quite enjoyed myself. I have always been the queen of awkward when meeting new people, but I was completely natural. I have since attributed that to the fact that I didn't care about what he thought of me at all, so I didn't clam up. I just said what I thought.