Though we met at a small elementary school in Southern OH in the fifth grade, R and I were not especially fond of one another. He was shy. I was not. He was tall. I was not. I was snotty. He was not. In fact, it is safe to say that we disliked one another until about the 9th or 10th grade when we became friendly in our Health class. The next year I moved to Boston to finish high school and R stayed in OH. We never expected to see one another again.
Seven years later, at 23, I was perusing classmates.com when I came across R's profile. He was living in Boston, which was a huge surprise. I had a boyfriend so I did not think anything would happen, but I wanted to at least say hi. He asked me to lunch. Over the next few weeks, our lunch turned into nightly games of pool (he had a table in his house). Pool turned into email flirtation and soon I was lying to the boyfriend to spend time with R.
One night I went to a party as his house and spent the night. Nothing happened. But it was clear we were more than friends. The next week we went to Walden Pond one 90 degree day after work. We kissed. That was it. I dumped the boy and he dumped the girl he was seeing and we moved in together six month later.
Our first apartment was great. High ceilings, close to the subway and a great kitchen. We formed a nice little life in that apartment until June 25, 2002. I got home from work to find a note taped to our front door. In it, I was promised membership to an "exclusive club of two" and a riddle: "Roses are red, violets are blue, go to where we sweat for clue number 2." I followed the clue to our gym, where another note waited. That note sent me to our favorite burrito place where another note had a subway token and a riddle that led me to one of our favorite restaurants. From there, I was sent to a bar with Scorpion Bowls we loved one too many times in our 20's. The final note said to meet him on the Weeks Bridge in Cambridge. He was waiting, got down on one knee and pulled out a diamond ring. If you would like to read more, feel free.
We set the date for June 7, 2003. We were married downtown on a rainy day. Here is what went wrong at our wedding: monsoonal rain, a deafening bagpiper, a ceremony no one could hear because of the air conditioner, no seats, a drunk friend puking and leaving in an ambulance and much underage drinking. Think we cared? Not at all. The band was great, everyone danced all night, the toasts were outstanding and we had each other. Drunken former friends mattered not. It was the best day of my life until Samara.