Sara blogged about the Sara of 10 years ago. Which made me think about the Dawn of 11 years ago today.
11 Years ago just about right now I was at a rehearsal for a wedding. I was in a black crop sweater with red trim and buttons. I was in a denim skort. I was wearing the Mia fisherman sandals for chicks that everyone owned that summer. I was paired with a groomsman who I’d met several times before. He walked me down the aisle. He was tall. We chatted. He was fun. He hit on one of the other bridesmaids.
I was at the end of a really… uh… growth oriented year. Carrie always said college was where you pushed the envelope to see what you were actually comfortable with. And I’d been pushing. Tossing off my virginity to the right guy who had the wrong marital status, one night stand with a friend. I’d pushed the envelope all I wanted to. I was done. I’d wrapped up the relationship with “right guy/wrong status” the weekend before. Telling him I loved him, him telling me he loved me. But finally kissing him goodbye. I’d spent the last week completely alone and with many hours praying. I’d finally felt forgiven and like I’d forgiven myself. I’d told God I was done with Mr. Right Now and I was SO ready to be alone until Mr. Right came along. I was ready to be alone.
I spent that night with the girls, we watched Steel Magnolias, we cried, we slept. We got up the next morning and did the whole hair salon/makeup blah blah. Gussied up in the dresses, at the church. Wedding. Exchanging wedding rings. Limo ride. A bunch of young 20s getting really shitfaced really fast. Lots of lewd comments with my groomsman about handcuffs and his occupation (all this after grabbing his piece unexpectedly as we were taking a picture (not his man piece… his other man piece).
Somewhere in the alcoholic haze of that night I fell. Hard. I ended up in a hotel room with him. I was thinking OMGWTF am I doing? I just forgave myself for this exact kind of shit. WHAT am I doing putting myself back in this situation? Clearly I was insane.
He came out of the bathroom and over to the bed where I was laying on my stomach. Here we go. What was I going to do? How bad was this situation going to get?
He sat by me and rubbed my shoulders and my back. And I, of the experienced backrub as foreplay kind of thinking, could tell that this was just a backrub. This wasn’t going to turn into seedy hotel sex that I’d feel really bad about when the sun came up.
I did kiss him a whole lot that night. Lots and lots.
And lots.
We swapped numbers and I called him a few days later expecting to have a really stilted conversation and getting off the phone with relief that I’d never really have to see him again. But a girl has to try.
Three hours or so later we were still on the phone.
Finally a man I could actually talk to.
11 years ago I was standing on the edge of a whole lot of stuff.
Today I’m here:
All wrapped up with the little man who is the son of the man I fell for 11 years ago tomorrow.
Thanks Sara for the prompt to make me look back.
