amusing diversions take2

lenoredewynter@aol.com

Sunday, November 07, 2004

week ten theme - the story of us

The Story of Us


A hand stuck inside a guy’s pants is a pretty memorable way of saying “nice to meet you.” The first time I remember meeting my husband Matt was at our friend Kris’s house. He was standing next to me, blocking off the view of the kitchen, so I stuck my hand out to push him back. Unfortunately Matt had a bad habit of wearing jeans that were missing various vital bits… such as the crotch. My hand went straight through one of these gaping holes and I ended up pushing him back via his underwear. I was mortified, he was amused.

The first time my husband remembers meeting me was rather different, and also about six months earlier. During the last few months of my short high school career, I had taken to eating lunch in one of the art rooms. My friend Ben always used to come and eat with me. I had a huge crush on him at the time. I was not, then, in a position to notice the fact that both Kris and Matt often had lunch with us. Matt, in the way of teenage boys, claims not so much that he remembers me, as particular parts of my anatomy of which he was very fond.

Our next colossal mix of signals came one day when my friend David moved back from Florida. I had a crush on Matt, but he had never shown any interest. So, not being one to let something like that get me down, I started flirting with Dave. In Kris’s bedroom I was hanging out with a bunch of the guys. Matt claims he was thinking furiously about how to get rid of the crowd so he could “make his move”. I am not, even now, exactly sure what that implies. I would have picked Matt over Dave in a heartbeat, but Dave wasn’t intimidated by an audience, so we started dating.

Regardless of all this, some months later Matt and I did get around to dating one another. It was something of a comedy of errors however, watching us try to do anything physical about it. There were a miraculous number of things that kept us from much more then the occasional chaste peck. One particular time we had finally worked up the considerable nerve making out required back then, and Kris called to us that his mother was driving up. It turned out that Kris’s mom, June, had only thought Matt’s mom was arriving, and so we all ended up sitting in the front yard for an hour waiting for her. Matt was livid. Three months later we broke up because Matt felt that everyone was convinced we were going to get married. Things were getting too serious too fast, he said. I had thought that maybe I loved him, but I put it firmly aside. I have never been a believer in letting a man break your heart.

I dated Steven, a worldly man eight years my senior who lived on Long Island in New York. I was convinced I had found my mate, that this guy was the one to marry. I had always generally viewed men as stepping stones of experience for when I found the correct mate. Matt, unbeknownst to me or anyone but Kris became steadily more depressed about it. I moved in with Kris and Matt. It was supposed to be temporary until Steven was ready for me to move in with him in New York a few months later. Matt and I were sleeping in the same room, but otherwise I largely discounted his presence. It was my friend Ben who eventually took me aside one day and screamed till he was blue in the face about how I was such a terrible and cruel person for hurting Matt the way I was. Couldn’t I tell how upset he was all the time? I had no idea was he was talking about.

Filled with righteous indignation I decided I’d show him. I confronted Matt, and asked him to tell the other guys that he didn’t care to get them off my back. There was, apparently, one major flaw in this strategy. He did care. He asked me to stay with him in Maine instead of moving to New York. Shocked beyond words, I agreed. I mean, he was so miserable! A few weeks later, the old feelings I had for Matt were strong again. I told Steven I wasn’t coming. Less then two years later, Matt and I were married. It wasn’t exactly the smooth, sweep-you-off-your-feet, whirlwind of romance that I’d always hoped for, but hey, it works for us.

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