(no subject)

Finally remembered what I wanted to write last night. :)

In Catherine's (can't get the tag to work for some reason) journal, she posted a story about how she and her husband started dating, and left us all rather upset with a cliffhanger. He said no when she first asked if he wanted to date. He said no! They're married now. :) This reminds me of two stories, first one with my parents, and then one with Jeff and myself.

My parents met in college. My mother is horrible at math, my father was a math major. He was her tutor. It was a small college in a small town in Ohio. My mother was out of her element, having been raised in Washington, DC, and was, therefore, a bit wild. My father, however, was from an even smaller town in Ohio that was relatively close to the college, so he'd go home on weekends. They became friends through the tutoring sessions, and once he wasn't her tutor anymore, they dated a bit. He was two years older than her, so he left college before she did. When he left he enlisted in the army (it was either enlist or get drafted) and worked on computers for them somewhere in Arizona, I think. This was during the Vietnam War. He kept up a correspondance with my mother, until one day he stopped writing her completely. She went to see his family to find out if they knew why he hadn't written. One of his sister's (he has MANY and they are much older, as well as 3 brothers, much much older) helped my mother get in touch with my father. He told her he stopped writing because he saw no future in their relationship. No future! He saw no future in it! It wasn't fear of commitment or anything, because my father is not one to fear it. He is now a round little old man and, according to his family, he was born an old man. Anyway, he came back from the army a little over two years later to find my mother teaching middle school art classes in his hometown. They started dating again (obviously, or my sister and I wouldn't be here, now would we?). They've been married 32 years this May. :) No future... *shakes head*

I met Jeff when he was living with a woman, her boyfriend, and her two children. Jeff had just moved back from Florida where he was in the Navy. He lived with his parents for awhile but they kicked him out for one reason or another, and he had been living on the street until he met a woman and her boyfriend in Denny's one night. They liked him and invited him to sleep on their couch when they found he didn't have anywhere else to go. He moved in and became their roommate shortly thereafter. The boyfriend is still Jeff's best friend. Well, the woman started working in a grocery store, with my mother as her boss. At the interview, she mentioned to my mother that she had two young children (just turned 3 and 4 at the time) and would need a babysitter as she couldn't afford daycare, so she could start only after she had found a babysitter. I was between jobs at the time and taking a semester off from school to "detox" myself from the overload of studying I had done my senior year of high school, so my mother gave the woman my name and number and I started babysitting for her. The kids were hellions, but I met Jeff there. I had been warned by the woman and her boyfriend both that their roommate had a tendancy to "hit on anything that moved" and if her hit on me, to let them know and they'd take care of it. Jeff always made it home before they did and my first meeting of him was when he got home from work the first night I watched the kids. He said "You the babysitter?"
"Yes."
"I'm Jeff."
"Christine."
"Nice to meet you."
and from there we talked and got along swimmingly. Not once did he hit on me, unless telling me his name and saying it was nice to meet me is hitting on me. ;) I started dating him about 3 months later. About a week into the relationship he broke it off saying he "didn't feel a spark" and there was "no chemistry" between us. I was confused, because I sure as heck felt it. The sexual tension between us was so thick you could have cut it with a knife and served it for lunch, but if he didn't feel anything, then he didn't feel it. Not much I can do about his feelings, so I agreed and we were "just friends". Not even two days later he called me, apologizing for being stupid. He said he missed me and wanted me back, so back I went. He didn't know what he was thinking. Next time he kissed me there was plenty of electricity. :) We've been together for about 3 and 1/2 years now, give or take a few months.

So those are my stories, the ones Catherine reminded me of with her post about her dear husband and how he said no the first time. :)

*edited to say: I feel romantic, so I was going to put romantic, but there is no romantic icon, so I had to settle for loved. Just know that I feel loved as more romantic, rather than loved as in... well... just general love.

(no subject)

This update will contain: my first kiss ever, a brief overview of today, and possibly a brief discussion on romantic love. :)

I'm one of the very rare and unusual people who not only REMEMBER their true first kiss, but had it not be an awkward kiss. In fact, it was quite a lovely kiss. More on that at the end, though, as I like to end with a nice happy romantic story.

Today was a good day. I was up and showered before Alex, which is unusual, as any of my movements in the room tend to wake her up, while her father's stomping at 2am keeps her happily in her deep sleep. Angua9 showed up right on time and scared Alex by knocking on the door while Alex was standing in front of it, reaching for the doorknob to let me know she wanted to go. :) Alex got on nicely and didn't show any amount of shyness until we were in the restaurant and a large man sat at the table next to us. She was fine with Angua from the minute she walked in the door, which I think is great and definately the best sign ever that Angua is a good person... so if any of you for some crazy reason doubted it, my daughter has given proof. :) Lunch was nice, chatting was nice, Jeff leaving for work late just so he could install RAM into his computer was NOT nice, but everything else was just lovely and I'd like to do it again sometime. :) And because I'm feeling rather good right now, I won't hoard it over anybody that I got Chapter 17 of Harry Potter and the 5th Year From Hell today, while everybody else has to wait for it to be uploaded at fiction alley. I won't hoard it over anybody, I'll just mention it. ;) And it's wonderful and suspenseful and leaves you craving Chapter 18 just as it should.

Romantic love. What they show in the movies I like to call romantic lust. For me, romantic love is talking and asking questions and taking the time to really get to know somebody. Romantic love is flowers "just because I thought you'd like them" even if they aren't your favourite kind. Romantic love is getting exactly what you wanted for your birthday without having to beat him/her over the head with it. Romantic love is making a card for somebody "because you really really want to". Romantic love is somebody giving you a slip of paper, not a card or decorated in any way, just a simple slip of paper that says "I can't imagine anybody else I would rather have be the mother of my child." Romantic love is what happens after the lust and glamour of a new relationship dies away, and it WILL always die away. If the romantic love isn't there, it wasn't love in the first place. When somebody gives you a hug, holds your hand, or pokes you simply because they wanted to touch you without it being anything remotely sexual, that's romantic love. Romantic love is somebody doing the dishes because they wanted to do something nice for you. It does exist. It's not all gifts and glam and kissing and sex. It's far from it, in fact. :)

Now, the story of my first kiss. When I was 11 years old, I started getting crushes on boys. I had a long standing one with a boy in my 5th grade class. His name was Jamie. He had the most brilliant blonde hair and deep ocean blue eyes. We got glasses on the same day. I had been his friend for awhile, but I was always just "one of the guys" until he noticed one day that I was, ahem, quite a bit further along in the way of puberty and a chest than the other girls. He teased me relentlessly afterwards, but for some reason, I still had a crush on him. That was the year we found out we were moving to Texas, and I was upset that he didn't seem to care, but then, what can you really expect from an 11 year old boy? My father left for Texas in January of my 5th grade year and my mother, sister, and I stayed to sell the house. We spent a miserable summer, but we didn't realize we'd be there throughout the whole summer, so I had said sad goodbye's to all my friends on the last day of school. I even got up the guts to tell Jamie I thought he was cute. I remember he blinked at me a few times with a look of bewilderment, and all he could say was "okay". The summer passed us by and I started 6th grade in Virginia. I had only one class with Jamie and that was choir. He didn't speak to me at all that semester unless he had to. I was devestated, in my 11 year old girl way. The time came around for our fall concert, but we had sold our house and were leaving December 2. My last day of school was the day of the concert, so I used the time when I would have been singing to turn in all my books and say goodbye to my teachers. I was waiting outside the math room to give the book to the teacher, but he was delayed in a meeting and the door was locked. At that school, the classrooms were in buildings, however they were not enclosed buildings so the "hallways" were really covered sidewalks outside. It was a crisp November day and I remember watching the leaves fall in their magnificent colours, all the reds, oranges, and yellows... like fire. The concert was about to begin and I wanted to hurry and leave before I had to hear the songs I learned and practiced that I wouldn't be performing. I was leaning against the wall when Jamie walked up to me, dressed in his pressed white choir shirt with this black slacks and his hair slicked back.
"Hi." he said. I was confused, as this was more than he'd spoken to me all semester.
"Hello." I said, glaring at him.
"So you're really leaving this time, aren't you?" he asked. I nodded. He stared at me for a few minutes and I watched his eyes harden, as if he suddenly became determined to do something that he was very afraid to do. He took two steps to stand right in front of me, put one arm on the wall behind me, and quickly leaned in. It lasted for a few seconds only but at the time it felt like it lasted forever. His lips were sweet and gentle and he tasted like chocolate. He pulled back, looked at me for a minute, and he was panting.
"I'll miss you." he said and then promptly ran away before I could say anything.

That remains my most cherished memory of a kiss. I've never had one quite like it. It was so sincine, so sweet, and so innocent. I know I could spend the rest of my life searching and never have another kiss like that one.