In honor of Valentine’s Day and all things mushy, I decided to write-up a nice little story for Everett (and any of our future kiddos) of how I met their father.
Marcus and I first technically met while we attended the same high school here in Des Moines. He was wild, goofy and a bit of a class clown, while I was involved in athletics and pretty much a goody two shoes. So, yes, our pairing at that time in our life was definitely off the table.
After graduating high school, I was windy city bound to spend time with the Jesuits and Marcus headed to northern Iowa to attend a small, private school. During school breaks we would find our way back to Des Moines and occasionally end up at the same local watering holes. But during those college years, that was about all the interaction we had.
Upon graduating our respective universities, we each set off on our career paths. I stayed in Chicago to work for a magazine and Marcus got into the political arena. On a trip home for the holidays we were both on a festive bus of glad tidings, making our rounds around Des Moines, and sparks flew. Unbeknownst to me, Marcus had taken a liking to me during this time but did not profess (nor act) on his feelings. After the holiday break, I went back to Chicago to continue to live the single life.
Fast forward to June the following year when I made my way back home for a long weekend to see my family. Our paths crossed again, but by this time I was aware of his crush on me. After a night out on the town with friends, I decided to take matters into my own hands and planted a kiss on him. That’s right ladies – sometimes you just have make the first move. [Marcus might argue this one, but I’m positive it was a 90/10 interaction.]
Over the next two years, and many trips back and forth, our love would continue to blossom and grow and in 2009 I moved backed to Iowa to be with the man I loved and would eventually marry.
And we lived happily ever after…