That "Moment"

I've talked before about the first time I met my hubby, and told him that I loved him. But do you remember the first moment you realized you loved someone? Mine is unfortunately a little corny. (Unfortunately? Hmmm. Maybe that's the wrong word.)

We had been dating a few months, and I had never intended to fall in love with him. He was a really nice guy, and I liked him a lot, but I was going to be tough. No longer was I going to be the sap who was loyal to a guy who wasn't planning to be loyal to me. No way! I was going to be a player.

Andrew used to own this battered red pickup truck--dented, faded paint. It had woven red/black/blue/gray seat covers that smelled, not musty, but sort of fibrous and somehow manly. Not stinky, but still, it smelled like a guy. The truck was an interesting quirk-- most aviators, when they get their first big paychecks as a grown up, will rush out and buy a fancy car. Corvettes, convertible something or others. A lot of them would get a vanity plate that read something terribly interesting like "Avi8or" or "Pilot". OOOOH. That's the first time I've seen that clever plate. (Warning: Sarcasm alert).

So here was this contradiction-- a guy who was an aviator, with the short hair cut, the big black clunky watch, who admitted when we first met to having a relationship "complication." He did not do the typical aviator things in car buying, but yes, he did get up with a group of handsome young macho guys and sang karaoke at the Officer's club-- it was, I think, "That Old Time Rock N' Roll." They did have silly jokes about work, inside jokes that made you feel as if you just weren't cool enough. You could visualize them all sitting around some locker room with one guy saying to the other "you're unsafe....you're dangerous".... "that's right, Iceman, I am...." They were almost, dare I say it, Top Gun-ish.... (NOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

Anyway. Back to the red pickup truck. I worked at this Tex-Mex restaurant as a waitress, and he, being from Texas, tended to really enjoy picking me up there. He'd sit in the "cantina" and have a beer and some nachos or something while I finished up and I'd bounce over and find him when I was done. One weekend, we had spent a couple of days together after such a pickup. He had to stop in to his squadron for some reason, where his buddy Ron (Stink) was working the desk. I waited in the truck, listening to the radio. It was sunny but sort of cool-- it must have been getting into early Fall. The windows were open and I was feeling good about myself, and not unhappy or expecting anything. This song came on the radio that I sort of liked. (This is the corny part). It was "More Than Words" by One Hit Wonders "Extreme". I know. Ick, right? But I was listening to it, and as it got about halfway through, Andrew came back towards the truck. I could see him from a bit away, short hair, baggy shorts, ugly metal eyeglasses that they make military guys wear. He walked slowly at first, but then bopped into a slow jog. The song was crooning "Saying I love you, is not the words* I want to hear from you...." And here was this guy, this nice, cute guy, running to get back to me. I did not want to admit what I was feeling, nor that the song was right about "SHOWING" that you love someone instead of just saying it.

I remember feeling like a big old sucker. Again. Here I've fallen for this guy who wasn't going to love me back. (I didn't, at the time, have the perspective to wonder why he would run to get back to me when there was no particular reason to hurry.)

So that's it... my big romance. It wasn't being swept onto the back of a bold white stallion by a Knight in courtly armor. But it was close enough for me.

*OOOF. I never noticed before writing it down how ungrammatical that is.... blech!

**And yes. I am feeling better today. I'm a generally cheerful person, ya know. And I was just in a funk. Life is sweet, and I usually enjoy it a lot. Just a day. :)