Our Love Story

18118600_264559743953942_106575914302964736_nMy wife and I’s love story is anything but normal. We met at the local Taco Mac which, believe it or not, is famous for their wings and not their tacos. I wasn’t too terribly impressed with their food, but I was struck by one of their waitresses. She had a beautiful smile that lit up an otherwise drab room and a lilt in her step that just stuck out to me. She may also have been blessed physically with great looks and a rocking body, but the first thing that caught my eye was that smile and that strut.

I became a fixture in that sports bar, spending way more money in the following three months than I really could happily afford, steady trying to just get this waitress to notice me. I knew that if I could just get sat in her section I could get her attention. I have always prided myself on being able to talk myself into (or out of) any situation with words that were smoother than Venetian silk and a smile that really seemed to work its magic when I needed it to. When it seemed that I would never get my chance, luck took its pity and showed me a little mercy.

One night she was sitting at a table of her coworkers; they were filling up the table one by one as they were cut from duties and a girl’s night was quickly forming. If I didn’t make my move I risked being blocked by a wall of alcohol-fueled man hating. I slid in smooth like I belonged. See, over the three months I had made plenty of friends and even caught the attention of a few of her coworkers.

Gentleman, if you ever can’t get the attention of the one you’re after my suggestion is to get the attention of the ones around her. As I found out later, she already had known who I was well before this night. As her coworkers talked about me, she had grown her own curiosity. When I sat next to her at the table that evening, I wasn’t the only one who was breathing a silent FINALLY!

That night, I was especially on my game. I was charming and funny, and I even found a smooth way to get her to text me: she took a picture of everyone and I had her send it to my phone. My response to the picture? “I really didn’t care about this picture… but now I got your number!”

A few days went by and I was waiting out the time it would take for it to be ok to message her without looking too desperate and I’ll be danged if she didn’t hit me up two days after, beating my plans by two and a half days.

“You should come by tonight. I’m having a few friends over, we’re just gonna chill and play cards. Should be fun.”

And the rest was history…

Forty-six days later we were married in the Dekalb County Courthouse in front of a sea of people waiting to do the same thing. It was almost comical how quickly you can get married. From the time I rolled over and proposed, to the time we walked out Mr. and Mrs. Ronald Thrasher, there was only a four hour span and a cost of sixty dollars. We didn’t even tell anyone for as long as we could hold it in.

A lot of people ask how I knew after six weeks of dating someone that they were the one. I have no answer for these people. Just as I know that I am supposed to do something by faith, I knew that she was the one. As I watched her sleep that morning, November 22, 2016, I just knew that this was the woman who was going to have my babies, make my lunches, and hold my heart in the palm of her hand.

It wasn’t easy in the beginning. First, there was the factor that our marriage was rushed and a secret to our families. We didn’t want to hear how young and stupid we were. We knew it was true, but we saw it as cute and spontaneous and no one was going to ruin that for us: not yet.

Second, there was the fact that we were both children of broken homes trying to build one with no examples. I never thought about the fact that I had never seen a marriage that worked before. I grew up with discord and divorce being a part of marriage intrinsically in my mind. We were both raised by someone other than our mothers. Her by her father and I by my father’s sister, my father having died at twenty-nine when I was only six years old. We were, in essence, winging it and unfortunately not very well.

There were times early on, I was sure we were going to call it quits. I have laid up at night and prayed to Heavenly Father asking if maybe I had heard him wrong. Maybe I jumped the gun like everyone had said. But we pushed through; we compromised, made concessions, and learned each others quirks. We grew up, and grew unto each other as we sought to honor our commitments and better show our love.

Today we are ten days shy of our seven month anniversary and four days out of our first trimester. Yep, we’re expecting, and we couldn’t be more thrilled. I am terrified, elated, concerned, curious, apprehensive, confused, and above all else amazed at the wonders that are taking place in my wife’s body. I’m keeping my fingers crossed for a boy, I don’t think my heart or my wallet can take a pouty-faced little girl saying “Daddy” at this current time. At least, I need a boy first so I know I have someone who won’t be out of line beating up anyone who hurts her. I’ll do it, but people frown on adults picking on kids for whatever reason.

I lay in my bed some mornings, up before the alarm, and wonder what kind of a dad I will be. I hope to be a stoic presence and a solid rock. I hope to be able to more than support them both financially and emotionally; to protect them from both physical and spiritual dangers and pitfalls. I hope our marriage will be a positive guideline and example for my kids one day when they are going through this same scenario. I hope when I pass, all of them are sitting there with me and I go with a smile on my face.

 

I hope.

 

 

 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s