We met in a "required for our major" research methods class. I used to walk in the back door of the classroom in Jones Hall (an omen or what?), which was the long way to my seat. However, in order to get to my seat through that door, I had to walk in front of his seat. And then he would have to put his fantasy novel down, move his feet from out of the chair in front of him, and acknowledge, though for only a short moment, that I existed.
The first thing I ever said to him was, "Did you go to Ireland?" He frequently wore a black t-shirt with a Celtic symbol and the word Ireland on it (while it is nearly destroyed completely, I still wear the shirt to bed sometimes). The guy who I'd almost married only 7 months earlier had lived in Ireland for a while and perhaps I blamed his short stint in the foreign country as the reason he decided to not marry me. This same guy predicted that I'd one day marry fantasy novel boy based strictly upon the way that my face looked when I spoke of him the night that he came to my parents' house to tell me that he was moving to Australia and that it really truly honest to goodness was over for us: MOVE ON.
The semester began in January. We had our first "date" on March 1. We both have different versions of the story: his-merely a fabrication from his imagination based upon his giant ego and mine-perhaps a defensive version due to my still not wanting to admit that I was so smitten, even nine years later.
After he helped me study for a history midterm (and he really did help me study for it because I made an A), we went back to my dorm room. He'd brought his friend Brian (ie, a chaperon) and I'd just left my boyfriend's on- campus apartment (his plans that evening were to get drunk on whiskey and therefore he didn't have time to help me study for my midterm). We chatted about books and church. I remember that much. He liked to read fantasy novels and books about angels. If I'd been honest, I would have admitted that I liked to read my psych text books. I'll have to ask him what I said.
He was from the church of Christ. I'd dated other church of Christ boys when I was in high school. Neither of them actually "bought" it, much less lived their lives in a Christian manner. But this boy was different, I could see. All at once, I wanted to kick him out and ask him to marry me. I was terrified of him. I was convinced that he just wanted to be my "friend" and possibly convince me to join his cult. It never occurred to me until four years later that he might actually love me for the sake of loving me. For ME.
He had to make a phone call that night. He had to see if his niece who was nine months old at the time needed anything. She needed diapers. He had to go so that he could get them.
That very night I knew that I'd do anything within my power to make him the father of my unborn children. Anything included acting like a total psychopathic, jealous freak of nature. It took me a lot of years to get my act together. To be fair, he was a total jerk too. But today, I'm so very glad that we decided to grow up and do God's will.
He's an amazing daddy. He's a good father too. He's affectionate, a hard worker, patient, kind, loving, understanding, funny, silly, entertaining, playful, etc. etc. I am so honored to be the mother of his children. The kids are crazy about him. They are so incredibly lucky to have a guy like him as their dad.