This post may contain affiliate links.
I met my future husband at 18….on September 29, 2012.
Of course, I didn’t know it at the time.
How it all started
All I knew was this handsome stranger standing in a Michigan recital hall was also from Massachusetts (and being my first month of college, I was horribly homesick). All I knew was that he asked me to swing dance. All I knew was that his friends wanted me to join them on a midnight trip to a 24-hour donut shop — and he opened my car door and offered to buy me one.
I had no idea that, to quote the classic musical (lol), it was the “Start of Something New.”
WHere I came from
Last night I curled up in bed watching Gilmore Girls re-runs on Netflix. Spoiler Alert: It was the one when 16-year-old Rory gets dumped by her first boyfriend. She plays it cool and goes into hyperdrive to distract herself from the pain, but by the end of the episode we find her snuggled on the couch with a giant tub of Ben and Jerry’s, sobbing. Confessions: I started crying too.
I know what it’s like to be the broken-hearted 16-year-old. But now I know what it’s like to be the happily married 22-year-old (as rare as that might be these days).
WHere we are now
Then this morning I woke up and went to write the date in my prayer journal. My face lit up when I realized I’ve officially known Casey for four years now.
Four years of getting to know each other, of dates, of gifts, of tears, of arguments, of stresses, of joys, of excitement — and just over one year of marriage. It’s crazy that four years ago today, I was debating whether or not I’d even go to this college “ball.” Then I finally decided yes, I would. I got all dolled up in my — yes, really — 69 cent dress from the Salvation Army and stumbled into my very own fairy-tale.
Yes, this is just a sappy, cheesy, vomit-inducing post about how grateful I am that I met my husband Casey.
But I’ve always been a hopeless romantic! 🙂