A few days ago, I posted my 100th blog post. I announced at the time that my friend, Nothing Fancy was working on her 100th also. Well, Fancy (I can call her that because we are friends, ya know.) used her 100th post to tell how she met her husband and their love story. It is a romantic, ooey-gooey tale of almost and near misses that will just make your little heart go pitter pat. If you haven't read it, go there. Especially you Northerners…..you could use the extra heat. *wink*
Fancy's story inspired me to tell my own true love story. Now bear in mind that I met My Harley Stud when I was a wee bit younger so my story doesn't quite have the steam that Fancy's does but maybe….just maybe, it will make you say……………"Geesh, them thare country folk sure start 'em young."
Once a year when I was in elementary school, my mother would meet with my current teacher for a parent-teacher conference. Each year she was told the same thing.
- She pays attention in class.
- She follows instruction.
- She is helpful.
- She gets good grades.
But…
- She talks too much….
- And she's boy crazy.
Every.Single.Year. What can I say? At least I'm consistent.
The year I entered the fifth grade was the first year that the sixth graders moved to the middle school. Suddenly the fifth graders were the top dogs. My twin girlfriends, the Purdy Girls, and I were selected to be safety patrols. We were giddy with POWER.
We trained for our posts during the first week of school. Each day while we were training, there was a boy……a sixth grader…..who would walk over from the middle school to collect his younger siblings and walk them home. He was HOT. Seriously. OK, maybe not so seriously. But he was twelve year old HOT.
When it came time to pick our posts, the Purdy Girls (who were apparently just as boy crazy as I was) and I fought over who would get the corner where the HOT boy had to walk past everyday. I think we drew straws or flipped a coin. I can't remember. It doesn't matter because……I.WAS.THE.WINNER!
This hot, older "man" was a new kid. I was aware that his family moved to town. It's a very small town and if you know anything about small towns, you know that not much flies under the radar. Everybody knows everything. Plus one of his brothers was in the fifth grade. Kids notice the new kid. And in a small town, we embrace them. Anyway……….the HOT sixth grader would walk past my post everyday on his way to the school to pick up his four younger siblings. They would walk back past my post in stair-step formation. Now before you get the idea that they were some kind of modern day American Von Trapps, let me tell you this. MHS is the oldest of six children. Five boys, one girl. The youngest was not yet in school. Each day as they walked past, there was usually some swearing heard, the boys might pull the girl's hair. Sticks were thrown. They weren't singing "My favorite things" if you know what I mean.
Nevertheless, this foul-mouthed older "man" intrigued me. He didn't pay any attention to me. I was a fifth-grader after all. As if!
But all year, every day I would watch him walk past me twice. I would stare at him all glassy eyed, dreaming of the day we would have a mortgage and car payments and……..WAIT! That was NOT the fantasy. The reality was he never even said hello. He would just pass by and smile. The most amazing smile. Blue eyes and great teeth. The first time my mother met him (a few years later) she said, "Marry him, Smart Mouth. He has great teeth. Your children will have great teeth." She was kidding. I wasn't.
Things didn't heat up for another two years but that story will have to be another day.
OK, so it wasn't a steamy and edge-of-your-seat kind of story. But it was kinda cute, right? What is your true love story?
***Note***
I just read this post to MHS who confirmed that he has no recollection of that silly safety patrol who was all ga-ga over him.
