That Summer (Part 2)

(For part 1 of how I met My Husband click HERE).

So, obviously, we dated longer than the two weeks I gave it.
And even though we spent about every free minute together that last carefree summer, and even though we had a great time doing all the things you do when you are 17 with no school, easy jobs, no kids, no mortgages, and that general lazy feel of your last summer before college…
…there was this unsaid *thing*.

The thing that this relationship was fun…but temporary.
After all, come September, Andy was packing off to Cal Poly…in San Luis Obispo…200+ miles away.
We never said it out loud, but we just both kinda worked off the premise that we would be breaking up September-ish because, well, because neither of us went into this with any sort of seriousness whatsoever.
I suppose you could say we were technically high school sweethearts since our first date was the DAY before graduation…
but we weren’t *that* couple.
You know…

the ones who canoodle behind the lockers.

the ones who walk eachother to class.

the ones who name their future babies during lunch hour.

I wasn’t the girl who doodled my first name with his last name in the margins of my spiral notebook.
There were no “I love Andy” s marked in Sharpie on the soles of my Vans.
We just enjoyed eachother’s company, had fun, and there were ZERO expectations.
Except that my heart was screaming a whole different thing to my oh-so-level-headed brain.
My heart yelled “AHHHHHHH, SEPTEMBER???? Are you kidding me??? THEN what?!!! I’m going to die!”
But my logical brain said “Jeannett, don’t be a stupid girl about this whole thing. You knew going in he was leaving, you are only 17, don’t be lame, you are fine, this isn’t serious, don’t complicate your life, get over it. But above all else, don’t be a stupid girl.”
(no joke. I thought these things. I *never* wanted to be that girl. Ever.)
So the summer moved along and a few weeks before September, the L-bomb was dropped.
I honestly don’t remember who said it first…I just remember that it SERIOUSLY took me about 5 tries for the word to come out.
You seen those Bud Light commercials lately where the guy just can’t spit out the Love word?
I can’t convey to you how accurate that would depict me on that night.
This was serious. I wasn’t ready for serious. I was 17. This wasn’t in the Plan.
And so, he moved 200+ miles away.
And we talked on the phone for at least 1 hour every night.
Before cell phones.
Before free minutes.
Back when you had to pay to talk to eachother.
Old school style.
And he drove the 3.5 hour drive to come home every other weekend.
And then drove back.
And in so many ways it was torture.
Fast forward to that time of year when you are supposed to be applying to colleges again.
I had spent the day filling out applications to a variety of schools. (I took a year off before going to college. Long story. Won’t go into it.)
“Why don’t you apply to Cal Poly?”
“Um…”
My heart lept for Joy, but…remember, I didn’t want to be the *that* girl, so I would NEVER in a MILLION years have brought that up myself.
“you know, that’s a big deal. That’s not just asking me to go grab some ice cream after a movie. You are basically suggesting that I re-arrange my entire life for you.”
“I know. If you don’t want to you don’t have to.”
So non-chalant.
On the other end of the phone I was fuh-REAK-ing out.
I made him promise that we wouldn’t talk about it for 2 weeks. He had to really think it through and then we’d re-assess.
That show Felicity had just come out. I had never seen it, but I knew that the premise had to do with some curly haired girl who followed her boyfriend to college.

And then she got a haircut and apparently that was a huge deal.

Following your boyfriend to college was definately, certifiably, something that *that* girl did.
But my heart wanted to go.
Bad.
So, we decided that if my 52-absences-my-Senior-year-self could actually get into uber competitve Cal Poly (and I highly doubted that), then I would go.
Besides, I reasoned with myself, it was a great school and had a population of 21,000 students.
So even if we broke up, I’d still come out with a good education and be able to get lost in the masses and not be running into him every 15 seconds.
There.
Heart and head were in agreement.
And defying all odds and statistics printed in the glossy pages of their Catalog…
I got in.

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jeannett

I'm a mom to four. A wife to one. I believe in story. I love telling you about mine and would love to hear yours. There's really no sense in wasting our suffering and not sharing in each other's joy. We're all in this together...even if it doesn't always feel like it.

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