You are about to read the 3rd section of a story sharing how my husband and I met.
The Swing on the Porch . . . Our Story and The Letter . . . Our Story part 2 proceeded this portion.
Before continuing with the story I must explain why I wasn't able to write until now. We visited my parents over the weekend. This means that my Friday was spent doing laundry and packing for all of us to make the 3 hour visit. It is amazing how much 3 children, 1 dog and 2 adults can fit into a Tahoe! I wonder if it wouldn't be better to upgrade to the Suburban.
I'm glad you returned for the 3rd part!
I left off explaining that Brent called to tell me that he was going to be able to attend the winter formal at my school, Snowball. I had been sick and didn't actually talk with him, but my mom did. When she told me that he was coming I was absolutely overwhelmed with joy.
My friends and I went shopping and made all of the necessary arrangements to prepare for the dance such as; buying our dresses, and accessories, booking hair appointments, making dinner arrangements, and so on.
It seemed as if it took f o r e v e r for the day of the dance to arrive. When Brent and his family finally got to my hometown I was all of the sudden filled with complete nervousness. The thought of actually having a verbal conversation, rather than one that was written frightened me. What if I said something stupid? I couldn't erase it! What if my voice sounded dumb? He would actually hear me! What would we talk about? Oh my gosh what was I thinking when I asked him to come?!
Sara, one of our other friends, and their dates accompanied Brent and I. Everyone, along with their parents came over to my parent's house. We did the usual posing for photos and headed to dinner. After dinner we were off to the dance. Sadly, most of the dance was spent sitting around a table talking and watching others dance. We didn't break out of our comfort zone and only danced to the slow songs.
Brent and I had the opportunity to meet up again in Chicago for our first valentine's day. Some car thing going on so we used this event to lure our parents into allowing us to meet up. While there we exchanged gifts. I made him a mixed tape (Yes, that's correct, a mixed tape. You know the thing they had before CDs and MP3s.) His mom decorated a box that had a picture of the 2 of us from Snowball glued in it. A stuffed Pooh Bear dressed up like a valentine bee was also in the box.
In the spring Brent invited me to attend his prom. My parents and I drove to his home town. With this trip came a whole new set of concerns. I would be meeting his friends for the first time. In general 17 year old boys are almost always nice to any girl they meet. It's the girls you have to worry about. Girls are mean and nasty and hateful!
His mom made an appointment for me to get my hair done on the morning of the prom. I later learned that the daughter of the hairdresser grew up with Brent and had a huge crush on him. Needless to say, the daughter was too happy about me being there or her mom doing my hair.
We went to dinner with a group of his friends. While at the dance, I met lots of his friends. Much to my relief they were all super nice. Another bonus was the fact that they knew who I was. This meant that Brent must have talked about me as much as I talked about him. We spent most of the night on our feet dancing and talking.
He took me back to the hotel where my parents and I were staying when the dance ended. Slowly we walked through the hallways and to the door. We took forever to say goodnight. It was apparent that neither one of us wanted the night to end. As we stood outside of the door letting time just waste away, we came to an awkward moment. You know the one where you just want to stay in the moment and not let anything change, but you know that your parents are waiting so you need to get going? Then, it happened; he leaned in and kissed me good night. Our first kiss . . . and it was perfect!
The next day we went to Great America with one of his friends and I went home.
**** I will continue tomorrow! ****
Our Story Part 4 . . . The Valentine Card