Signals had been flying over the past week and I was going to burst.  After almost an entire semester of flirting, then seeing him with someone else, having a deep/personal conversation then not seeing him for days, we were finally getting somewhere.

1. He took me on a date for his free birthday lunch at one of my favorite restaurants (which I thought was going to be a group/friend thing, but he just took me and paid for my meal when his was free).
2. He put his arm around me in the car.
3. He held my hand at Harry Potter 4.

But Jay’s uncle came to town the weekend of his birthday, and for a day or so there wasn’t any contact between us.

We had been on a roll, a roll that I liked very much -  each time we were together we acted more enamored, more interested, more touchy…

I really wanted that roll to keep going.

I hatched a plan to pop over to his apartment right at midnight so that I could be the first person to wish him a happy birthday, and to give him a little present.  We weren’t bf/gf yet, so I just made a little box that was part of an inside joke with us and filled it with candy (Jay still has that box to this day – it’s filled with things from our dating days, ticket stubs, programs, etc.).  It was sweet, but not too overbearing (I didn’t want to ruin things by sending out creeper vibes).

Jay seemed surprised to see me, but happy too.  We just talked for a moment, since he mentioned having to get up at 4:30 to take his uncle to the airport in the morning.  Much to my surprise he asked me if I’d like to go along for the ride.

Sleep, Boy, Sleep, Boy…. hmm. Two very important things to the average college age female.  My deliberations only took a moment though – I figured that I had the rest of my life to sleep, but being along with Jay in a car for an hour drive only came along once in a lifetime (back then).

I told him that I’d LOVE a two hour car ride before the sun came up, and rushed home to get a [very] little bit of shut eye.

I’m sure that Jay slept like a log for those 4 hours.  I contemplated taking a shower, doing my hair, if my pajamas were cute enough…. In the end, I think I didn’t want to come off as fake, so I just wrapped up in my red-plaid-teddy-bear blanket (no joke) and slumped into the backseat of his car.

You should never be fake in relationships.  That’s the key to success.

On the drive to the airport, I snoozed a little in the back of the car.  Jay wanted to talk personally with his uncle and I didn’t want to push myself into it.  I did eavesdrop a little though when the uncle asked about girls – Jay said that he wanted to date, but that he wouldn’t get married before graduating unless he found the right girl.

Who would have thought the tattered little thing in the backseat would have been her?

After Uncle took off for his flight, I came up to sit in the front by Jay.  His car was an old lady’s Buick (quite literally, it was a hand-me-down from Grandma G), which came fully equipped for a strapping young bachelor – a bench front seat.  Jay stretched his arm out across the seat and offered me his shoulder to crash on, which I accepted delightedly.

We drove the hour back home like that.  Yes, I did think of my mom and dad’s warnings about girlfriends who sit in the middle, then get in accidents and have the rear view mirror lodged in their heads, but I took the risk – it was JAY’s shoulder after all and at least I would have died happy.

Taking our exit off of the freeway the sun just began to crest over the mountains.  The morning frost glistened in the perfect silence of a lazy Sunday morning.  We were alone on the streets of our town.

Bending onto my road, I was sad to see my apt coming into view, but as we approached my driveway Jay swung to the left instead of the right and parked in the empty University A lot that we used for visitors on weekends.  I thought he wanted to park and walk me to my door, but the engine stayed running, as Jay shifted to hold me tight.

I honestly cannot remember if we even said a word that morning.  What I do know is that Jay was sporting his sloppy-look complete with a nerd’s hat (no joke, it said Atari on it) covering his uncombed (possibly unwashed?) hair.

With my head on his shoulder, he bent down and grazed my forehead with his lips.

I froze – a test, was that a test of the waters?  How do I act interested without loosing my cool?

I remained still in that same position.  Dead-frozen, like a kissing possum just in case there was some mistake.

Then, timidly, a second kiss was placed on my cheek, but dangerously close to my lips.  The brim of his hat collided with my temple and I wondered, Was he trying to kiss me, but didn’t make it ‘cuz of the hat?

Stupid hat.  Stupid, stupid, blocking hat.

With boldness that is NOT like me at all, I twisted around, grabbed onto the brim of that hat and gave it a heave into the backseat.

Jay smiled, nothing to misinterpret there, leaned over and kissed me for real.

I was dumbfounded by how perfect it was – not an awkward lip bump like so many first kisses when you’re not really sure of the other person.  It was sincere, it was heart felt, and it lasted a good little while. ; ) wink wink.

The last part of the story (that I know if I don’t write out, Betty will jump on the comments section and add it) was that after it was time to go home I said goodbye to Jay, walked through our apt, passed another roommie who accused me right off the bat of having been freshly kissed, walked into the room we shared, then did a flying human-blanket onto Betty’s sleeping body screaming, “He KISSED me!”

As early as it was for a Sunday, she didn’t even complain.  Talk about a great roommate.

There’s a lot more story to tell – not all of it as perfect as this little fair tale, but all of it goes back to that day.  It’s been 4 years since the  kiss that changed the world – four years and the kisses have only gotten better, the mornings have occasionally gotten even earlier, but the magic of each moment together is just as strong.

I love you Honey, happy birthday and happy kiss-aversary!

This computer was to be my best classmate.

Luckily at the time I knew and admired a handsome IT student.  I casually mentioned around him that I was hoping to find a computer at a fair that was being put on that week on campus, but that I really wasn’t sure what I was looking for.  A chance to be chivalrous and do computer stuff?!  Yes, that nerdy knight-in-shining-armor was hooked and agreed to meet me at the fair the next day.

My thoughts: Me and Jay ALONE at the computer fair, weeze weeze, is this a date? He said he’d meet me – what does that mean, does he like me? weeze weeze.

What my thoughts would be in this scenario today:  Me and Jay ALONE at a computer fair, ugh, well at least we’re alone.  I hope Cee’s being nice for the sitter.  Wow, how long is this going to take, I thought I saw a cute shoe store outside…

Boy how things change with time – anyway, back to the story…

We met, we looked, we didn’t find.  Instead Jay continued the search online until he found the right computer for my needs at the right price.  He helped me order it, helped me set it up when it came, and my life changed forever.

No, Jay didn’t ask me to be his girlfriend then, I just really really liked my computer.

I liked her so much that I named her Dolly, so that I could say phrases like, “I’m just playing around with my Dolly,” and “I’m going to the library with Dolly.”

Much like a childhood pet that seems immortal – long outliving the normal life expectancy for its breed, Dolly endured.  She helped Jay and I patch things up after a rough start to our relationship, she listened to me complain about the incompetent writing that I had to edit as a Senior capstone project, she went with me to work everyday while I was a Spanish teacher since most of the time I didn’t have an office to call my own.  She edited Cee’s birth pics.  She started this blog.  Then last month, she coughed out her last.

This is where I have to give LOTS of credit to Jay.  He saw me struggle with her, he saw her die on me out of nowhere, and he saw how slow she went on the simplest tasks.

No, he didn’t grab a shotgun to put her out of her misery like some terrible ending to ‘Old Dell-er,’ he once again went online, found the perfect computer for me and bought it using all of his overtime money from last month (so as not to destroy our family budget).  Not only is Jay a wonderful husband, father, and provider, he is a selfless gift giver.  16 hours of his life went into me having a new toy and I appreciate it with all of my heart.  It’s one way he tells me that I matter, that he thinks I’m talented, and that he wants me to keep pursuing my dreams.

I’m a lucky girl.

Here’s the new Dolly.  She’s younger, faster, smarter, and sleeker, but she can never be #1.

*Disclaimer:  Before reading the story, you should know that I don’t in fact believe in talking warts, or warts with personalities, I’m just using such ideas for fun and to aide in the drama that is my wart story.

A long long time ago, before I loved Jay, before he loved me, but after having kissed a bit, Jay asked me to go swimming with him and his friends.  I love to swim, it is something I’ve always enjoyed – what I don’t enjoy is being in a swimming suit in front of the boy that just barely crossed over the “just friends” line.  Worst of all, the suit was old, worn out, and not so supportive.

What if wearing this suit in front of Jay meant the shallow and premature end to this budding relationship?

Jay just thought he’d ask because it’s fun – if only he’d known then what torture he’d unleashed on my insecure little mind.

I hemmed and hawed in front of the dressing room mirror.  I pranced, I sucked in, I shook, I leaned, I did any and every pose I could think of that could possibly happen while swimming so as to know exactly what Jay would be seeing.  In the end I just ran out and jumped in the water as fast as possible hoping that the water would obscure everything I’d just seen and somehow make me look graceful and mermaid-like.

I know, those are some seriously high hopes for a campus pool.

Anyway the date went fine – I impressed Jay and his friends with my swimming prowess, Jay jumped off the highest high dive (maybe to impress me, maybe cuz that’s just the kind of guy he is), and if I remember right, I even got a few more kisses.

But the hemming and hawing in the locker room had come with a terrible price.

That night back at Jay’s apartment I remember feeling a burning sensation on my foot.  I think I mentioned it to Jay, but I just chalked it up to scratches from the rough pool floor.

The next morning I awoke to find a behemoth wart on the bottom of my foot.

I freaked out – I couldn’t believe what I was seeing, a wart… on ME?  No, no, it couldn’t be!  Warts were for wicked witches, gross people, dirty people, not for little old me…

I looked at the wart, and it looked back at me.  I wept, it laughed.  I cursed, it wrote me poetry, “Ask not for whom the wart bell tolls, it tolls for thee…”

The Beast came with two other baby beasties on my toe and heel.  I went to the drug store and bought some wart remover and the two little buggers died off, but The Beast remained.

I tried every remedy I could get my hands on, I had to be rid of him, I had to get back to having a normal foot and a normal life.

But all he did was grow, and grow, and eat my remedies for breakfast.

Now he’s become a sort of nemesis – someone who’s always there, putting large wart marks in the bottom of my shoes, shooting pain up my calf… he hangs in the shadows, observing everything, and adding his own touch on each and every moment.

The Beast was there when I met my now in-laws, engagement, marriage, honeymoon, college graduation, job interviews, teaching career, pregnancy, Cee’s birth, our move to TX… he’s even down there now, as I write this, sneering at me.

Why not go to a doctor?  That’s a good question, and one that Jay has asked me a number of times, but the truth is that I have been to a doctor… 5 of them periodically over the years, and not one of them could stop The Beast.  He’s been chopped down, shot full of poison, given pills, treated as a corn, and the latest embarrassing treatment was to smear him with for genital warts (believe me, that was a humiliating trip to the pharmacy – “It’s for my foot, I swear!”  “Yeah right lady, that’s what they all say.”).

So, why am I writing all of this?  It is a little detailed and gross, but it’s to finally declare my independence from The Beast.  On Tuesday morning he’s going bye-bye.  He is going to be surgically removed, leaving me with an open wound that my doctor describes as a shark bite.

I’m scared, relieved, and concerned all at the same time.  Not having this constant pain in my leg will be a rebirth for me, but 6-8 weeks of healing time worries me.  How will I keep up with Cee?  How will I get around?  How will I keep up with everything that I need to do?  Is it possible to be hopefully optimistic, but dreading the worst at the same time, or is that emotionally ungrammatical?

So anyway, be prepared for posts next week about the joys of motherhood when you can’t get off your hands and knees.

Earlier in the week we’d had a quasi date/hang out session in the which Jay had inadvertently (that’s my word – his word would be smoothly) put his arm around me.  It happened, I basked in the glow of my dream guy’s physical affection, then it ended.  There was no commentary about what it meant, relationship status, nothing to define the beginning of coupledom or meaningless friendly cuddles.

He picked me up – I wore something adorable, he wore whatever he’d worn to school that day.  We drove to the theater talking about this or that – what had happened that day, how excited we were to see the movie and so on.  We parked, walked into the theater, he held the door for me, we got to our seats, Jay went to the bathroom, I sat alone… thinking.

Is he going to make any kinds of moves?  Does he think I’m going to make a move?  Maybe we’re just friends… but are we friends that make moves?

Jay came back from the bathroom.  The lights faded and the previews began.  I strategically placed my hand on my knee the way girls do when they want it to be held – of course it would be much more comfortable to sit a different way, but we do it for you, men.

There was nothing to hold him back besides his feelings.  There were no snacks or tubs of popcorn to hold on to – we were mutually way too cheap for that.

The previews ended and the telltale Harry Potter music began – da, da da, da, du, da da…  What was that?  I looked down and there was a scouter pinkie touching the back of my hand.  I stayed perfectly still as to not scare the pinkie so that it could report back to the rest of the hand that the playing field was safe for advancement.  The pinkie retracted and my hand was scooped up in Jay’s.

We held hands for the rest of the movie (I’m still not entirely sure what happens in the first fifteen minutes, and I bet Jay doesn’t know either).  We held hands walking to the car.  We held hands to my front door to say goodnight.

A first kiss?  No, that’s another story for another day.  But I’m telling this story now because since that day it’s been our tradition to go on dates to HP.  That was the first, then we went to #5 in a little one-room theater in Weaverville, CA while on a camping trip with my family, and tonight Jay got a babysitter so we can go to #6.  This will be our first real date since moving to TX and I’m super excited.

7 hours to go… I better start getting ready!

That first haircut went well.  I went through all of the moves I could remember from my lesson, and it ended up respectable – maybe a little wobbly in places, but a fine effort.

The next time around I noticed that WAHL makes certain clipper guides for each ear that gradually lengthens the hair with each prong.  I thought it was so clever – I called myself a chump for having cut around Jay’s ears with such difficulty when my answer had been sitting in the case the whole time.  I showed Jay my lucky find, snapped it in place and plunged into the hair behind his right ear.

Biiizzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.  Oh crap.

I couldn’t believe it  – he was bald, shorn, the hair was gone in a 2 inch patch, and nothing I could do would bring it back.

The phrase “Oh crap” followed by stunned silence isn’t a good sign to the one being trimmed.  I knew Jay was waiting for an explanation, which went something like, “Honey, I shaved you down like a sheep in a place that cannot be concealed by any hat and that will certainly be noticed by everyone who sees you, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sooo sorry.”

Jay went in the bathroom, looked at what I did, then came out, shrugged his shoulders, said there wasn’t anything we could do about it, gave me a kiss, then let me finish cutting the rest of his hair.  That was when I knew that my fiancé really was Prince Charming – a keeper through and through.

Since then I’ve cut Jay’s hair a lot, I even did his wedding haircut.  I think in all of the time we’ve been together he’s had 2 professional haircuts.  Once on our honeymoon in Mexico (though he wished the whole time that we’d brought our clippers) and once while I was pregnant and on bed rest.  Which means that over these 3 years I’ve given Jay about 24 haircuts, and at $10 a cut, that saved us $240.

If you’d like a haircut like Jay’s follow these easy steps:

1. Buy some WAHL clippers.
2. Throw away the ear trimming pieces. : )
3. Use #3 all around the neck and up by the ears.
4. Use #4 to blend from the ears up to the brim of the head.
5. Use #5 all over the top of the head, except for the very front “bangs.”
6. Use #6 on the very front hairs.
7. Use scissors to go back around ears if necessary, shave neck with clippers on the lowest setting.