Did any of you ever think that the first person you dated would be the one you’d marry? And then how many of you are forever and always grateful he or she was NOT the person you stayed with? Raise of hands please. Oh, everyone? Welcome.
My older brother set an unrealistic ideal for me that I needed to fall in love with and marry the first person I dated. I suppose he was one of the lucky ones. He’s been married to that woman eight years now I think and they have one of the best marriages I’ve ever witnessed. If one of them reads this, I’d die. But they truly do. My own husband and I often think of them or talk about it after a visit.
But for the rest of us, do you remember that first person who was really just the ice breaker for the rest of your relationships? Here is today’s prompt:
Share the first time you held hands with someone you liked.
You can post your story in my comments, or write it into your own blog and share your link instead! Here are some tunes for while you write: SamFish Music – February ’18
We worked at the same summer camp. I was a counselor, he was the head counselor. Fancy, right? He asked me to meet him on the homestead porch first thing the next morning. It was okay to leave my campers sleeping because I had a co-counselor; she was ecstatic about what was going down. I just had sweaty palms. Hey, I liked this guy.
It was cold that morning, but I got up even earlier than necessary to take a shower and pull on some warm sweats. No one was awake yet and the grass still wet as I made my way down the girl’s hill. I don’t remember who arrived first. He was probably there already since I deliberately dawdled, not wanting to come off too eager.
We sat next to each other on the porch swing. It was the same swing that broke the following summer from too much use; probably would have made for a more fitting morning if it’d broken a year early. He told me he liked me and asked if I’d be his girlfriend. I might remember more of the details if it weren’t for the wart on my right hand. I was self conscious of it because he took hold of that hand without much warning and whether or not he realized it, he touched the wart as we sat there quietly in the dawn of our new relationship. I spent a lot of time in the following months trying to get rid of that thing.
Thankfully it was gone in time before meeting the real person I’d end up marrying, a year and a half later 🙂 It’s the little things, people.
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