Well, Studmuffin and I only ran into each other occasionally for awhile. I knew he had a thing for me. I know that's terribly conceited, but I did know. For some strange reason this was the very reason I didn't want to date him. I thought I'd just walk all over him. However, you must realize how incredibly nice Studmuffin is.
Seriously, he is very nice. Example: I'm laying on the couch snuggled under a blanket last night. "Don't you wish the overhead light was off, and some lamps were on instead? That light is hurting my eyes." Studmuffin gets out from his warm blanket on his warm couch, adjusts the light, and brings me a drink while he's up! I KNOW! I totally don't deserve someone that nice! (Studmuffin has been heard to say: Yeah, I let her think she wears the pants in the family. But just about the time she starts to button them, I RIP THEM OFF! Yep, he shared that in CHURCH! I was so embarrassed. He loves to embarrass me.) But, back to our topic.
Unfortunately, that seemed to truly be my mindset in high school. I only liked nice boys for friends. If you treated me bad, had little to no respect for my feelings, then I was sure to be madly in love with you. Sick, I know. Anyway, Sabra, was sick and tired of it. She loved Studmuffin (as a friend, silly, don't be adding drama to this story!). She thought he was a great guy. She thought we should be together. She was obviously way smarter than me. Of course, I think I forgot to mention she had known Studmuffin before I did. For quite awhile. Sabra had moved a lot growing up, and I swear, that girl knew EVERYONE!
So, Sabra took matters in her own hands. She arranged a movie night with friends. There were going to be 6 of us going. The obvious people, and 3 other people who I forget. We were all to meet at her house at a certain time (probably about 5 o'clock or so) and head to the big town for dinner and a movie. I need to give you some background on where I lived. I lived 26 miles from the town I went to school in. Actually, I lived 26 miles from any town. I lived 55 miles from the nearest movie theater. Okay, quick flash forward: Do you realize Studmuffin lived 40 miles from my parents? He would drive to pick me up, drive me to our date, return me home, then return to his home. That was roughly 200 miles per date! Yipes!
So, the Big Night comes. Sabra calls at about the time I should leave to meet everyone on time. It seems she forgot she had to work. As a matter of fact, suddenly everyone can't go. Except me. And Studmuffin. And, she simply doesn't have time to call him to cancel. Can I do that for her? I call him. He still wanted to go. So did I.
"Do you want me to come pick you up?" he asks.
"NO!" I reply, rather forcefully. "It's not like this is a real date or anything. We'll just meet up at Sabra's as planned, then carpool to the show."
We did. We took his new white Chevy step side short wheel based pickup. It was way cooler than my Escort, let me tell ya! We went and ate at Mazzio's Pizza. He paid. We went to the movie. He paid. We got popcorn and cokes. He paid. (Do you think this felt like a date to him?)
I can say in all honesty that was the best time I have ever had with a guy. I laughed so hard I had tears running down my face. He told story after story to make me laugh. Stories directed at himself to make me laugh. Who can resist those stories? You know I can't. Remember? I have no shame, if it garners a laugh!
When he took me back to my car, he asked, "Can I kiss you goodnight?"
I think I fell in love with him right then and there. He was modest and considerate. He respected me. He went out of his way to show consideration for me. He was funny. He was cute with a capital C (and still is.) He paid for me to have dinner, a movie, and snacks! When it wasn't even "a real date or anything!" What was not to love?
So...there you have it. My story of true love.
Yep. I love my Studmuffin. But I still hate Valentine's day.
Showing posts with label Valentine's day. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Valentine's day. Show all posts
Friday, February 13, 2009
Thursday, February 12, 2009
A True Love Story Part Two
We're discussing the fascinating tale of Andi & Studmuffin, remember? Of course you do!
Well, the second time we met that we both remember, was at a basketball game. I was a cheerleader. He was there with some friends from college who were from my hometown. It was some sort of play-offs. I only remember, because I saw him a couple of days in a row this time.
So. I'm a cheerleader. I see a cute guy. I go over to chat with my dear friends who just happen to be in college and just happen to be sitting next to Cute Guy I Don't Know. I have a seat. We chat awhile. I learn his name is Studmuffin. Just kidding! To learn how he came up with Studmuffin for a name, click here! I return to cheering.
The game is over. My friend Sabra and I were pretty much joined at the hip in this period of our lives. We decided to ride around. Somehow, at some point, we decide to ride around with college guys and Cute Guy. I end up in the back seat. Between Cute guy and his future college roommate, Shaddon. We were having a great time. Sabra was driving, I was sitting next to Cute Guy. He pops out a beer. He imbibes. He rests it on my knee. "Hmmm.....He thinks he's pretty cool doesn't he?" I casually move my leg so it's no longer his beer rest. (BTW, I hate beer. I hate how it smells. I hate how it tastes. I hate beer. Putting it on my leg earned him no points whatsoever.)
Curfew time came. I got into my car, the lovely hatchback Ford Escort, and went home.
The next night of the area playoffs arrives. I see Cute Guy across the way. He was with his parents that night, although I didn't know that at the time. I approach him. Yes. I was a very friendly girl. Not forward. Friendly. That's my story....
I give him a friendly shoulder punch, "Hi! How are you?"
He turns slightly green and winces. It seems Cute Guy made some very bad choices the night before. He and his friends had wrecked his pickup the night before on a dirt road. They were going about 20 mph, fishtailing and laughing, when the pickup sloooowwwwwlllllyyyy tipped over. On the driver's side. It seems Cute Guy dislocated his collar bone in both joints and cracked 2 ribs when his college friends fell on him! He learned a very valuable lesson, and that's all we'll say about that.
Sadly, we hardly spoke that evening after that. He was with his parents after all, so "dragging main" with us was out of the question........
to be continued....
Well, the second time we met that we both remember, was at a basketball game. I was a cheerleader. He was there with some friends from college who were from my hometown. It was some sort of play-offs. I only remember, because I saw him a couple of days in a row this time.
So. I'm a cheerleader. I see a cute guy. I go over to chat with my dear friends who just happen to be in college and just happen to be sitting next to Cute Guy I Don't Know. I have a seat. We chat awhile. I learn his name is Studmuffin. Just kidding! To learn how he came up with Studmuffin for a name, click here! I return to cheering.
The game is over. My friend Sabra and I were pretty much joined at the hip in this period of our lives. We decided to ride around. Somehow, at some point, we decide to ride around with college guys and Cute Guy. I end up in the back seat. Between Cute guy and his future college roommate, Shaddon. We were having a great time. Sabra was driving, I was sitting next to Cute Guy. He pops out a beer. He imbibes. He rests it on my knee. "Hmmm.....He thinks he's pretty cool doesn't he?" I casually move my leg so it's no longer his beer rest. (BTW, I hate beer. I hate how it smells. I hate how it tastes. I hate beer. Putting it on my leg earned him no points whatsoever.)
Curfew time came. I got into my car, the lovely hatchback Ford Escort, and went home.
The next night of the area playoffs arrives. I see Cute Guy across the way. He was with his parents that night, although I didn't know that at the time. I approach him. Yes. I was a very friendly girl. Not forward. Friendly. That's my story....
I give him a friendly shoulder punch, "Hi! How are you?"
He turns slightly green and winces. It seems Cute Guy made some very bad choices the night before. He and his friends had wrecked his pickup the night before on a dirt road. They were going about 20 mph, fishtailing and laughing, when the pickup sloooowwwwwlllllyyyy tipped over. On the driver's side. It seems Cute Guy dislocated his collar bone in both joints and cracked 2 ribs when his college friends fell on him! He learned a very valuable lesson, and that's all we'll say about that.
Sadly, we hardly spoke that evening after that. He was with his parents after all, so "dragging main" with us was out of the question........
to be continued....
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
A True Love Story Part One
Disclaimer: Okay, before I begin, don't think this is a spinoff from Pioneer Woman. I just realized what some may think when they read the title, but this will not be a multi-chapter, year long torture, when-will-she-tell-the-rest story. This will just be a few posts in honor of Valentine's day to commemorate my love for Studmuffin.
BTW: I hate Valentine's day. I love my husband every day, and I hate the pressure it puts on me to perform to the nth degree. But, that's just me....so, here goes nothing (okay, it will probably be literally nothing, but it is the story!)
I once said that how Studmuffin and I met was an entire post for another day, remember? Of course, I can make any topic an entire post if I want to. I'm just ramble-y that way.
Warning: Bunny chase about to commence!
Poor Studmuffin never gets to talk around here. And it's getting to where I can't either. I took Bookworm to piano yesterday. She talked without stopping all the way there and then all the way back. Popcorn is just as bad. Of course, I'm dying to cut in, but I know they have tons of important stuff to share, or they will explode. I can relate... Truly I can. So, pity Studmuffin, and pity my coworkers, because outside of this blog I have like 3,576,823 words to use daily. If I can't use them at home, I throw them up all over my patients and coworkers. Poor things.
Return to original topic:
Well, there were actually 2 first meetings, but I don't really remember the first one. It was the summer before my senior year and I was riding around with a friend (that's what we did in small towns...ride around, or "drag main.") and he pulled Studmuffin over to see if he would be on his softball team for the July 4th tournament. I don't remember this encounter, and neither does Studmuffin, but the friend I was with says he introduced us, so I guess we'll believe him. Oh, and how does one "pull over" a friend? Flash your lights, toot your horn, or just wave them over. Or yell out your window. That was always my favorite.
Second meeting for the first time:
The date: December 31, 1993.
The occasion: a New Year's Eve party.
The attendees: College guys and my best friend and I
Do you remember how dorky and sentimental you were as a high school senior? Boy, I was. I had tried to convince my parents to let me go on a ski trip with my friends over Christmas break. For some reason they said no. I doubt it had anything to do with the fact that about 10 guys were going and me with one other girl. The other girl wasn't even my best friend. Sabra had to work at the grocery store. The other girl ended up not going when her parents realized she'd be the only girl, since I couldn't go. Parents are strange. Anyway, Sabra and I were devastated. We were sure we were missing out on the trip of a lifetime with friends that we'd soon have to leave. We were totally devastated. That meant there was nothing to do New Year's Eve, except go to the dance, but no boys our age would be there, because THEY ALL GOT TO GO SKIING!!! And if my children are reading this, don't ever even THINK of asking me if you can go on such a trip. The answer is no.
So. Sabra and I decided to color my hair. Red. Without any help from parents. It actually came out pretty, but my mom was a tad surprised when I got home that evening.
That only took up about an hour of the evening. We decided to drive around. Remember. It's small town life. This is what you do. We happened to drive by a certain house, and saw cars there. Cars we recognized as college boys cars. It was actually the house of one of the boys on the aforementioned ski trip. We decided to drop in.
So, I was looking pretty smokin' if I did say so myself. Red Wet'n'Wild lipstick? Check. Charcoal gray eyeliner applied just so, with a slight cat-eye to the side? Check. Two-toned skin tight jeans (they were striped with 2 different colors of denim)? Check. Newly colored hair with an orange stripe in the part (to match the striped jeans, I'm sure) where 2 novices did not completely rinse out the dye? Check. Bright red shirt to clash with new red hair? Check. Yep. I was a sight to behold. I was dressed to impress some college boys. Yeehaw, ya'll.
So, the scenario is this. We arrive. There are 5 guys there. Okay, so it wasn't much of a party, but they were feeling like it was. One guy had a guitar, so of course, I decided to sing with him. I'm sure it was a glorious 2 part harmony country song about a dog dying, or trains, or lost lovers. One guy refused to join in our serenade. I remember very clearly....He sat in the kitchen at an abandoned table of red Dixie cups. Drinking beer.
"What a loser" I thought to myself. Doesn't he realize the fun is over here? With US?
Now, I can add his inner dialogue, only because he's told me what he thought. "That girl is weird. Why is she singing with those guys, when she could be drinking with me? And what's up with the orange scalp?" Understand, Dear Reader, this was many years ago, and his priorities and values were vastly different from now. I just need to point that out. Of course, I'm sure now he'd be able to look past the big, newly dyed red hair, red lipstick, and red shirt to see the true beauty underneath. Don't you thinks so?
So, that was how we first met. Pretty auspicious start, huh?
Oh, and just so you know, we didn't stay long. We left and went to the "dance-with-no-boys-to-hang-out-with', found lots of guys to hang out with, and had a great time. You see, we were actually very good girls (at that time.... we won't address our freshman year of college together), so we were quickly bored and annoyed with the party boys and headed to find more excitement in our one stoplight town....
to be continued....
BTW: I hate Valentine's day. I love my husband every day, and I hate the pressure it puts on me to perform to the nth degree. But, that's just me....so, here goes nothing (okay, it will probably be literally nothing, but it is the story!)
I once said that how Studmuffin and I met was an entire post for another day, remember? Of course, I can make any topic an entire post if I want to. I'm just ramble-y that way.
Warning: Bunny chase about to commence!
Poor Studmuffin never gets to talk around here. And it's getting to where I can't either. I took Bookworm to piano yesterday. She talked without stopping all the way there and then all the way back. Popcorn is just as bad. Of course, I'm dying to cut in, but I know they have tons of important stuff to share, or they will explode. I can relate... Truly I can. So, pity Studmuffin, and pity my coworkers, because outside of this blog I have like 3,576,823 words to use daily. If I can't use them at home, I throw them up all over my patients and coworkers. Poor things.
Return to original topic:
How Studmuffin and I met
Well, there were actually 2 first meetings, but I don't really remember the first one. It was the summer before my senior year and I was riding around with a friend (that's what we did in small towns...ride around, or "drag main.") and he pulled Studmuffin over to see if he would be on his softball team for the July 4th tournament. I don't remember this encounter, and neither does Studmuffin, but the friend I was with says he introduced us, so I guess we'll believe him. Oh, and how does one "pull over" a friend? Flash your lights, toot your horn, or just wave them over. Or yell out your window. That was always my favorite.
Second meeting for the first time:
The date: December 31, 1993.
The occasion: a New Year's Eve party.
The attendees: College guys and my best friend and I
Do you remember how dorky and sentimental you were as a high school senior? Boy, I was. I had tried to convince my parents to let me go on a ski trip with my friends over Christmas break. For some reason they said no. I doubt it had anything to do with the fact that about 10 guys were going and me with one other girl. The other girl wasn't even my best friend. Sabra had to work at the grocery store. The other girl ended up not going when her parents realized she'd be the only girl, since I couldn't go. Parents are strange. Anyway, Sabra and I were devastated. We were sure we were missing out on the trip of a lifetime with friends that we'd soon have to leave. We were totally devastated. That meant there was nothing to do New Year's Eve, except go to the dance, but no boys our age would be there, because THEY ALL GOT TO GO SKIING!!! And if my children are reading this, don't ever even THINK of asking me if you can go on such a trip. The answer is no.
So. Sabra and I decided to color my hair. Red. Without any help from parents. It actually came out pretty, but my mom was a tad surprised when I got home that evening.
That only took up about an hour of the evening. We decided to drive around. Remember. It's small town life. This is what you do. We happened to drive by a certain house, and saw cars there. Cars we recognized as college boys cars. It was actually the house of one of the boys on the aforementioned ski trip. We decided to drop in.
So, I was looking pretty smokin' if I did say so myself. Red Wet'n'Wild lipstick? Check. Charcoal gray eyeliner applied just so, with a slight cat-eye to the side? Check. Two-toned skin tight jeans (they were striped with 2 different colors of denim)? Check. Newly colored hair with an orange stripe in the part (to match the striped jeans, I'm sure) where 2 novices did not completely rinse out the dye? Check. Bright red shirt to clash with new red hair? Check. Yep. I was a sight to behold. I was dressed to impress some college boys. Yeehaw, ya'll.
So, the scenario is this. We arrive. There are 5 guys there. Okay, so it wasn't much of a party, but they were feeling like it was. One guy had a guitar, so of course, I decided to sing with him. I'm sure it was a glorious 2 part harmony country song about a dog dying, or trains, or lost lovers. One guy refused to join in our serenade. I remember very clearly....He sat in the kitchen at an abandoned table of red Dixie cups. Drinking beer.
"What a loser" I thought to myself. Doesn't he realize the fun is over here? With US?
Now, I can add his inner dialogue, only because he's told me what he thought. "That girl is weird. Why is she singing with those guys, when she could be drinking with me? And what's up with the orange scalp?" Understand, Dear Reader, this was many years ago, and his priorities and values were vastly different from now. I just need to point that out. Of course, I'm sure now he'd be able to look past the big, newly dyed red hair, red lipstick, and red shirt to see the true beauty underneath. Don't you thinks so?
So, that was how we first met. Pretty auspicious start, huh?
Oh, and just so you know, we didn't stay long. We left and went to the "dance-with-no-boys-to-hang-out-with', found lots of guys to hang out with, and had a great time. You see, we were actually very good girls (at that time.... we won't address our freshman year of college together), so we were quickly bored and annoyed with the party boys and headed to find more excitement in our one stoplight town....
to be continued....
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