Tuesday, January 12, 2010


Where was I?

Right - Number 2.

2. Okay, here's the deal. I've been engaged twice. To the same guy. Some of you may know him as Cory, some may know him as Mr. Flower Patch Farmgirl. Others still may know him as my personal, lurking-in-the-shadows paparazzo. Here's the short version of the story. (Come on, have faith in me!)

I met Cory when I was a Junior in college. He was a Freshman. (I know.) He worked part time on the campus maintenance crew. I didn't know who he was or what his name was but holy cow, he was a looker. At a loss for a better, more effective option, Sarah and I began referring to him to one another as "Cute Maintenance Boy". Over the next several weeks, I began to notice a certain Cute Maintenance Boy sort of stalking me. And trust me, I was not used to being stalked. (Looking back, this may have been an early indication of his lurky ways?) He seemed to pop up in the strangest places, at the oddest times. Yadda yadda, thanks to extensive assistance from a mutual friend, he asked me out.

On our second or third date I remember silently praying, "Please, Lord, let me marry him!"

We were so loopy-sappy-lovey-dovey. We were complete goners. Both of us. We never, ever fought. We believed the other was faultless. I remember telling his mom that he never had bad breath. I don't recall why we were discussing his breath, but surely we had our reasons.

The next year, we were engaged, with a plan to get married a month after I graduated.

Fast forward to two weeks pre-wedding. It's all a bit blurry now, but suffice it to say that I initiated what turned out to be a major, mutual melt-down. I freaked out. I did not have cold feet, but I suddenly realized that we were weeks away from getting married and Cory still had 2 years of college left and we had not lined up a place to live and I would be our sole breadwinner and I had no clue where I would be working after gettin' hitched and moving back to Indiana.

We were so lovesick (and young, let's be honest) that we neglected to worry about real life stuff like jobs and four walls with a roof.

After much ado and buckets of tears, we decided to call the wedding off. 2. weeks. before. our. wedding. date. Drama-rama. I remember very little of that time, because I was mostly busy crying and not eating. Our moms made all of the necessary calls and I believe I spent our "wedding day" swimming at a friend's pool with my mom and my sister. Rumor has it that my favorite high school teacher arrived at an entirely empty church that day. Ugh.

We did not break up. We were still together.

And then I wanted to break up, and we were not still together.

And Cory was heartbroken.

And then I wanted to not be broken up - I wanted to be back together...

But Cory wanted to be broken up.

And I was heartbroken.

Through all of this, I was in Ohio, working my first official job as a Social Worker, eating 2 doughnuts a day on my morning break. Cory was in Indiana, at college, fending off random pretty girls attempting to gift him with unexplained bags of candy and the like.

Then finally, we were back.

I thought the best course of action at that point would be to begin a relentless re-engagement campaign wrought with much whining and melodrama. I mean, why wouldn't he want to re-engage with a moody whiner?

At last, the campaign ended in the parking lot of Pizza Hut in Ft. Wayne, IN. He had had enough of my griping and as we sat in the car, waiting out a torrential downpour, he reached over, ring in hand, and asked me to marry him again. This time, I was surprised. I had not anticipated the Pizza Hut proposal. I was elated.

We ran in and planned our wedding over The Big New Yorker. (Remember that?)

We were married 4 months later. We had weathered a storm that most had mentally written us off over. And we were better and stronger for it. Our big day was perfect and fun. My cheeks hurt from smiling so hard. I understand sentimentality and I did shed a few tears of my own, but my wish for every bride is to smile so hard on that day that her cheeks ache.