An Ode to the Big Guy

Erik and I are coming up on ten years this June. All in all, I'm liking this married stuff.

At the risk of embarrassing the un-assuming man I married via un-asked-for attention, I offer you this...

Fourteen years ago, a fellow I picked up at a dance on campus decided to impress me with a "Nestea Plunge" into three centemeters of snow. After literally dancing the night away, we went sledding behind Brownlee, where all of us frosh then resided.

(So what if it was midnight and no one knew where I was or who I was with? So what if I didn't even know his last name? I'd been quietly drooling over him for two weeks already and wasn't about to listen to the "don't go to any isolated location late at night with men you don't know" rule that I was raised on.)

Well, we went down the hill a few times; it wasn't particularly slick and the snow wasn't particularly deep, so the actual act of sledding was a bust. His next act, he later told me, seemed like a good idea at the time.

"Watch this," he said,just moments before falling backwards.

Somehow he didn't kill himself, and today we still laugh about how it must have worked: I married him, didn't I?

And now we own a house, have a kid, drive two sensible family-type cars, and consider a new dishwasher a kickin' anniversary present to ourselves. We take turns driving to work in the morning so that at least one of us gets an extra 40 winks in the passenger seat. I iron his work shirts every morning and he scrapes the ice off of my car every winter.

The Big Guy, which I call him because he towers over me, and I rode home together yesterday because there wasn't any overtime to be had at his workplace. It was a rare treat; often, he won't get home until about 9 P.M.

I loved it. Our best conversations usually take place while we're driving or lingering over a meal. It's always been that way, even before Gavie came on the scene. We talked about his work, about my very newly-earned degree, and about a plethoria of other mundane topics that fascinate only those involved.

"Did you turn the dishwasher on this morning?"
"Yeah, I didn't want to come home to it. This way I can do the kitchen after dinner."
"What are we having?"
"Chicken, peas, mashed potatoes."
"We need to give Gavie his vitamin at dinner."
"I will. Hey, that reminds me, I have a dentist's appointment tomorrow."

See? Less then fascinating. Must be love, huh?

Oh, by the way, we went back to the site of our first date three years and one month later. That's where he proposed.