The problem is, where do I start? Do you want the abridged version, or the extended cut? Because Steve and I go way back. I'm talking, we-met-in-second-grade way back.
[Note that adorable Steve is where our boys got their cuteness. Note my mullet, permed only in the back. Oh yes. Permed and then probably brushed out. Klassy.]
But it's my blog, and I can split this post into as many parts as necessary, so we're just going to jump in and see where this takes us. Possibly through old journal entries which are almost certain to be a complete riot. My life is, sometimes to my delight and sometimes to my utter embarrassment, well-documented from about third grade on. Someday we'll talk about how many volumes of journals I have accumulated over two decades...
Anyway. My earliest memory of Steve is us standing in the lunch line together. He made a mean comment about one of my friends. I tattled on him. He got his name on the board. Not exactly love at first sight.
At some point my feelings changed, because we're both pretty sure that we were "going together" for about two weeks in third grade, and that it probably involved one of those "do you like me? check yes or no" notes. OK, let's be totally honest: I definitely instigated that. Eight-year-old Steve was not doing any girl-chasing. I did have a steady boyfriend from kindergarten through third grade, when he broke my heart right before Christmas before dumping me for my best friend. (Slightly traumatizing, even at age eight.) But after that, let's just say no boys were pursuing me for a long, long time. (See: aforementioned mullet, for starters??) Looking back I can laugh about that, and see it as God's protection, even...but boy, at the time, did I struggle with self-worth and identity when so many of my friends had a steady string of "boyfriends."
But I digress. Oh boy, this is going to take a while.
So Steve and I had a brief fling in elementary school, which was afterward a source of much disgust and mortification on my end. I wish I had my third grade diary to quote (pretty sure that one is still in my parents' basement)--though maybe not; I was a mean girl sometimes!
I think we were classmates again in fourth grade, and eventually I started liking Steve again. I might or might not have written an anonymous poem and put in his Valentine box. OY. Nothing came of that, though, and for the next few years our paths diverged. It was a tiny school, so we certainly still saw each other, but we didn't hang out with the same people and/or didn't have classes together, and I lost interest. I don't really remember much about Steve during those years, except that I hit my growth spurt long before he did:
Yeeeaaaahhhh. Wow. Not exactly crushing on a boy--however cute--a full head shorter than me. And though I had finally grown out the mullet...I obviously still did not know how to do my hair. and those glasses! those teeth! those clothes! oh bless her heart. I still hurt for that awkward girl when I look at pictures like this.
Eventually little Steve caught up with Amazon girl, though, and by eighth grade, my interest was rekindled. But that part will have to wait for another day, as my handsome man is home and my boys are waking up from naps. To be continued...