Especially for me, because I like making everything a big deal. I also dated only 3 or less people (the jury's still out on that, and I don't really care to specify the numbers), and I've only kissed one guy in my entire life.
(AKA, my husband, in case you were stumped).
The first time we held hands was on our first real date. Or what eventually became known as our first date...at the time, he didn't think I liked him, and we were just going as friends.
Our story is rather complicated actually, and would take a while to tell, and is much better in person because I move my arms a lot when I talk and get louder when I'm excited.
So. Our first date. Winter Formal, January 13th, 2007.
We're the fetching couple in the center.
Despite the early-on strained relationship (he teased me, I rolled my eyes, he pulled my hoodie sweatshirt over my head and cinched it shut and tied it in a knot, etc...you know, the age-old story), we had been getting along and flirting here and there since going to the Rose Bowl Parade a few weeks prior. Another story entirely. "Where it all began."
For Winter Formal, I was in a super-great dress borrowed from my sister-in-law. We had a really great time with our friends, avoided the dance floor, and eventually headed over to a friend's house to spend the rest of the evening. |
| Meant to be. |
All I remember is sitting there next to Dusty with our hands both laying flat on the couch, the stupid and oh-so-high-school signal for, HEY HAND! My hand is here too, just in case you wanted it.
After the movie, it was nearly midnight. My friend Megan was still there with her date, (it was his house), and I was spending the night at her house afterwards. We started getting ready to leave, since her curfew was 1am. Suddenly Dusty began to fervently insist that we go rent another great movie, called Identity.
I joined in. It was like we were both begging, in code, to PLEASE let us watch another movie so we can have another 2 hours to try and muster up the courage to hold hands.
Poor Megan. She finally said ok, like a champ.
Dusty and I ran outside to take his truck to run to blockbuster, which closed at 12. I didn't even have time to grab shoes, so Dusty hoisted me up to ride piggy back across the wet grass to his car. It was a special moment.
Dusty went in and grabbed the movie, (he forgot his wallet so I had to casually walk in barefoot to use my Blockbuster card. I don't think anyone noticed or cared, but I felt super rebellious.)
Back at the house, about an hour into the second movie (don't judge, it can be very intimidating to hold a hand) I see Dusty grab his phone. He starts texting, and I do my best to extend my peripheral vision to see who he's talking to. He's texting Mike, whose house we were at...
(Another long story, but Mike knew that I liked Dusty, and was sworn to secrecy. It was a weird situation.)
He was asking hand-holding advice. Or more specifically, I think he was saying, "Dude. Should I? I don't know. Her hand is right there. Dude."
After a few more minutes, he hands me his phone. In the text box it says, "Can I hold your hand?"
Now, his phone was a Razor. I remember because I hated Razors, and had an old-timey phone and could not figure out how to text on his.
As the seconds tick by, he starts to fidget. His posture screams "WHAT HAVE I DONE".
I plop the phone back onto his lap and just say, "Yes. Yes, you can."
The rest is history. :)
I love that boy.
And every adventure since then has been just as fun, giddy and ridiculous.
I'm proud of all that he has accomplished this year, and how he still takes the time to hold hands and be silly.
I appreciate how hard he works not just for himself, but for us.
And I've enjoyed every single dance party.
Want a taste?
Go here and here, and dance your little heart out. We dance badly, so maybe try some good old-fashion snapping (my signature move), or just imitate Chandler Bing, and you'll be solid.
Love you Schanaker!
Congrats on finishing your first year of law school, with flying colors.
I'm rootin' for ya.
In love,
Cait
