winner, winner

My husband reminded me tonight how much of a catch I was when we were dating.

This was what our relationship looked like before we even started dating.
It pretty much looks the same now, except sometimes we sit close enough that our shoulders touch.

It took him a (relatively) long time to kiss me.
By that time, I had dozens of people who made me swear on my life to let them know the second we had our first kiss.

I had kissed guys. I had. However, reading this story you wouldn't know it.
Here's the catch, though. And, believe it or not- it isn't me.
Husband was the first guy I kissed who I actually had feelings for. (slut alert?)
In my defense, I thought I might like the first guy I ever kissed, if we kissed. So we did. And I didn't like him. But I was really smart and told him I did. And then he thought I was his girlfriend. And it was awkward. 

Moving on...

I had kissed a small number of guys. Three, if you're wondering. Two of them were roommates. (Oops.) As stated before, I had zero romantic feelings for any of them. (At the time of the kiss, at least. Does it count if I liked them at one point?)

I hadn't experienced the frustration of wanting a guy to make a move on me. That is, until I started "dating" my husband. I use quotations because who knows what we were doing. Not kissing, obviously.

It happened on the 4th of July. Really, it was the 5th because we didn't kiss until 4 AM, but kissing on a holiday makes it sound better.

Pulling all-nighters was a regular thing for us. You'd think we'd spend the time having hot and heavy make out sessions, but apparently true love takes eons and eons to have it's first kiss.

We were lost in conversation, and ended up joking about how he wouldn't miss me when I left to Russia for four months. The more we joked, the more I believed he actually wouldn't care when I left. He was convincing. I semi-jokingly got offended and started walking back to my parent's house. He tried to grab my hand to get me to come back and give him a hug.
[Interruption: My parents have a gate in their backyard that leads to a park. This park has great sentimental value to husband & I, even before the first kiss.]

"Don't touch me!" I joked. Sort of.

I reached the gate and turned around to look at him. To give you an idea, he was fairly far away. About fifteen feet. Because I know you were really wondering about that crucial detail. 

"...you really won't miss me?"

He walked toward me. "Allie. Of course I'll miss you."

"You better."

He smiled. "I like you, Allie Lundybear." This had already been established. Hence my frustration that he was taking so dang long to make a move. 

"I like you, too."

"No. I really, really like you." Welcome to our junior-high level of romance. As I type this, I realize how corny this whole story sounds. Meh, can't win 'em all.

He leaned in ever so gently and grabbed my face (in the cute way, you know?). I smiled. I was smiling so hard I almost caused our first kiss to be a disaster collision between his lips and my teeth. Thank goodness I came to my senses in time. We kissed. In the park. And it was cute.
He pulled away and smiled at me.

I looked at him and said (no joke), "I have SO many people to text!!"



I was a real winner.
I still have no idea what compelled him to keep dating me.

We reminisced about this a few nights ago. When he reminded me of how much I ruined the moment, my pregnancy hormones took over and I started to cry. No, no. I started to weep. When husband asked me why I was crying, I told him it was because I felt so bad for ruining what could have been a perfect moment. He then said, "Don't start crying about moments you've ruined or we're going to be here for a really long time." What a man. Always knows just the right things to say.