eleven years

The first time I saw Scott I thought he looked mean.
He was a rapper, after all.
(He was flowing like the motion of the ocean,
coming out as smooth as Johnson's Baby Lotion.)
My friend, Leslie, and I hunted him down to ask him
if he knew a good rap song with the word "Jump" in it
since we needed it for our "Jump" lip sync medley at
our college talent show.
(Jump by Van Halen, Jump for my love by The Pointer Sisters, etc.)
He recommended Jump Around by House of Pain
but we went with Jump by Criss Cross and wore our outfits backwards,
baggy pants and all.
Ahhhh, the early nineties, those were the days.
In the spring of 1994, I met Scott again.
And I thought, he is not mean. He is HILARIOUS.
And tsgs, I love hilarious.
The more we hung out, the more I wanted to be around him.
I told myself,
"I don't like him. I don't like him. He's nice. But I don't like him."
Because for my whole life I was thinking,
there will never be someone who really fits with me,
who loves me, who wants to be with me.
And then one day, Leslie confronted me.
"You like a short rapper!" she said.
"No!" I said.
(By the way, Scott says he is medium not short.
Short is anything below him).
"Yes!" I said. "Yes, I like him."
Then it was out there hanging in the air, in the universe,
I had said it outloud and now it was real.
And then there was that nauseous feeling
that maybe this was like all the other times
when there was all that liking going on and it ended up disastrously.
But it wasn't. It was the opposite. He liked me back.
And tomorrow will be our eleven year anniversary.
Eleven. Years.
2 youth groups, 3 sweet boys, and 1 church plant later,
we still like each other.
Except when we have to clean the house. Then we get angry.
But after the house is clean we like each other again.
Tomorrow we are going to celebrate because 11 years is no small thing.
And I still think he is hilarious.
I don't know all our plans yet. He's been a little vague.
Maybe he wrote a rap for me.