In honor of all the hearts, roses and arrow-wielding babies flying around on this, Valentine's Day, I've decided to record my own love story. It's definitely not an epic, run-across-the-beach-into-each-others-arms-tear-jerker but it was the most magical time of my life!
When I first heard Hubster's name, I was seated in his dad's office talking about my academic future, while he was serving his LDS mission in Lisbon, Portugal. Even after listening to stories of his heroic feats, hearing snippets of his letters home and seeing his handsome picture, I wasn't even considering this dark-haired, smiling absentee. I was determined to follow the plan: complete my degree and wait for my missionary.
A few months later, a little bird - unnaturally similar to Hubster's dad - told me that, due to a pretty serious illness, Hubster would be coming home early from his mission. I offered the appropriate sentiments but still knew there was no way I was interested. A week later I walked into class with my best-roommate Rachel, took my seat next to Hubster's brother, K. (who I had met a semester early), and didn't even notice the new guy sitting on the back row. After chatting for a few minutes, K. invited his brother to come sit by us. Wait, what? Your brother? This was when I first, met Hubster.
I remember the exact moment. Turning around in my chair, noticing his blue eyes, saying hi, explaining how much I had heard about him. Rach and I gossiped about him the whole walk home.
The weeks that followed seemed harmless. Hubster was a frequent visitor in my classes; his professor-father gave him a free pass. He asked me out shortly after our first meeting, but I said I was too busy. I was busy, but I was also just wanting to wait for my missionary and avoid any other romantic messes. So, instead Hubster went out with Rachel a few times. He would pick her up at our apartment for dates, come over to watch movies, and drop by with treats. Alas, Rach had the same mission-waiting-syndrome I was plagued with and, soon enough, Hubster moved on.
After a few months of medical treatment and tests, Hubster decided to return to the mission field. He was called to serve in Seattle, Washington and left in July. He was gone, I only had two semesters left until graduation, and I was happy to just have fun. I can honestly say I probably didn't even think of him for a solid 5 months.
But then, in September I learned that Hubster's illness was back and he would have to come home for good. He returned to Cedar and a few weeks later I felt compelled to write him a little note, welcoming him home and telling him how thankful I was for his example in returning to the mission. He said thanks and asked for my number.
I gave it to him.
The entire month of December we texted and emailed. I was at home for Christmas Break and he was still in Cedar. My mom got suspicious and wondered aloud why I was so preoccupied with this boy. I wasn't entirely sure. He was just so easy to talk to. Funny, kind, and interesting.
In January, I went back to Cedar to finish my final semester of school. I had resolved that Hubster and I were "just be friends." The first day of courses found me again sitting in Professor H's office, discussing my Senior Project, when Hubster suddenly walked in. He sat down next to me, said, "I like your red shoes," and from that moment we were both oblivious to anything his dad may have said. Hubster asked me to show him where the music building was, and since it was on my way to class I obliged. Every Monday, Wednesday, Friday for the rest of the semester I showed him where the music building was. I was a dedicated tour guide.
Hubster and I started to hang out more; we watched movies, went to lunch, and he walked me through the Library at closing time. I tried to rationalize the fun we had and my feelings for him to my friends, my parents, and myself. We were just pals. He was just a good friend. Our relationship wasn't going anywhere. I was still waiting for my missionary and Hubster knew it.
On January 23rd we went on our first official date. Hubster took me to St. George for dinner and some black-light mini-golf. After our game, it was such nice weather we decided to walk around the temple. Hand-in-hand we took a couple laps. We went up the front stair case and Hubster hugged me. He was shaking terribly and I thought perhaps he was sick, he hadn't looked well at dinner, but he insisted we keep walking. We finally made it another lap and stopped under a tree. He turned to face me and we kissed. Suddenly his shaking stopped and he looked well again. I was in heaven.
Two months later Hubster told me that he loved me. We were sitting in my apartment when he said leaned toward me and whispered that somehow, he just knew he loved me. I didn't know what to say or do. I thought that maybe I did love him, but I also thought I was waiting for a missionary. So, I didn't say it back. I had never used that word with anyone outside my family. I knew that when I did say it, I had to mean it. I had been saving that word for my whole life, for that one person I would love forever.
A week later, as Hubster was leaving my apartment I told him that I loved him too. And I meant it.
The next two months were a crazy blur of late night dinners, moonlight dances, Sunday walks, and being together entirely too much. We felt separation anxiety during vacations. I met his family. And he met mine. Both families approved. We looked at rings and talked about kids and jobs and dreams. But, I was still stubbornly determined to wait for my missionary before taking the next step.
I think I felt the pressure of friends, family, and expectations. I knew that I loved Hubster and could not possibly live without him, but I was holding on to some part of my old, pre-in-love self who thought that she owed it to someone to wait. And so, I waited, and lucky for me Hubster waited too.
The week after graduation I moved home, my missionary returned and we planned to meet. That morning I called Hubster and told him I loved him. He said the same and reminded me that he would wait for me as long as I needed. Well, I only needed about two minutes. My missionary and I had a good talk and ended as much friends as possible. I called Hubster on my way home and told him I was his, forever, no strings attached.
He surprised me by walking into my mother's kitchen ten minutes later. I'm almost certain I cried!
A week later, Hubster took me on a date to St. George for dinner and some black-light mini-golf. As I walked through the maze on Hole 7, I was completely oblivious to what was happening behind me. When I noticed Hubster wasn't following, I turned around, walked around the corner and there he was: golf balls in one hand, a driver and ring in the other, with a white T-shirt that read, "Will you marry me?" Not known for my quick whit, I replied, "Seriously?" Good think he's patient! He said yes, slipped the ring on my finger, we kissed, and I lost all the remaining holes.
On July 31 we were married for time and all eternity. It was truly an emotion-filled, crazy, fast, GREAT day. But at the very moment we became Mr. and Mrs. H, best friends and companions always and forever, I knew that I was the luckiest girl in the world and that I would love Hubster a little more every day, for the rest of eternity.
Hugs, Kisses and Happy Valentine's!
Love,
Erin
