I wasn't sure if it was okay for me to be posting about my relationships before my husband on my blog, so I asked my best friend J. She said it was cool to post my funny stories on this blog, seeing as it's anonymous, but not on my primary one. I have been waffling for some time about doing it, and have been wanting to, so I will. Just don't tell DH. ;)
I believe that every woman's past makes her who she is. Her past relationships are sometimes her dark, hidden secrets that make her smile oh so mysterious and are rarely talked about. They are what is behind the curtain. Sometimes those stories are just too rich to not share. One day I will share all of my stories with my daughter when she grows up so that she can know her mother really did live before she met her father, got married, and started her family. I like to think that my past might one day help my daughter make good decisions because she knows her mother has been there and done that and can give her wise advice. I will also delight in seeing the smile on her face when I tell her about some of the cutest stories, or laugh when I tell her about some of the dumber guys.
It was through dating that I was able to weed out the qualities I didn't want in a husband and find the man I did want to unquestionably spend the rest of my life with. Each and every guy who came and went through my life was an integral part of who I am today and the relationship I have with my husband. I often think back over those relationships and laugh at the silliness, the stupidity, and definitely the drama.
I wanted to tell you one story in particular, but it is already 11:30 here and I should be in bed. Not only that, but the story would make this post way too long. So instead, I will tell you about my all-time favorite kiss. No, it wasn't with my husband, although he has had some chart toppers. Again, don't tell him!
A couple months before I met my husband, I was dating a guy we'll call James. I had met him at church and was instantly attracted to him. He was built like a big farm boy, burly, with reddish hair and freckles. He was reserved and sweet. Being the lioness I was, I found and stalked my prey until I had won my prize.
From the moment we started dating, I vowed to take things slow with this guy. I didn't want to rush through all the firsts, as those are the most thrilling part of a new relationship (and my favorite). I also decided to let him do things on his terms. In other words, I was going to let him make all of the first moves.
We had been dating for two weeks and James and I still had not kissed. We went on a date one weekend, and he took me home afterward. He was the perfect gentleman and walked me up to my front door. We hugged for a bit and said the usual, "I had a good time" jazz. I waited for him to kiss me, but he didn't. I could tell he wanted to, but he was too chicken to just go for it. Since I had promised myself I wouldn't make the first move, I just smiled to myself and enjoyed the intensity of the anticipation. He finally told me good night, turned, and walked down the sidewalk to his truck. I stood on the door step smiling as I watched him go, wondering when he would make his move. Just then he stopped at the end of the sidewalk, turned around, came back, and gave me the sweetest, most gentle, yet passionate kiss ever.
I will never forget that kiss. I had never been kissed like that before, and I had never had a guy walk away, kicking himself so much for not kissing me that he actually turned around and came back to do the job. It was pure magic.