Us: Part 1

This is harder than I thought, sitting down to write our story. I have to put myself back there, in 1998, age 17. I went back and looked through journals from that time-- the entries are so incredibly embarrassing and dramatic. I thought I might use some excerpts from things I wrote then, but we'll see if I have the guts for that!

I suppose it's good to start by setting the scene. In 1998 I was a junior and Pat was a senior in high school--we'd actually attended the same schools since elementary school, but never really knew each other. I was the assistant student director for the spring musical, which was Once Upon a Mattress that year. Many of my close friends were in the show or working behind the scenes in various capacities. Pat was on stage as one of the leads: Sir Harry.

He caught my eye in March, when I found myself unable to look away as he stood on stage singing (mostly cheesy songs about love, which certainly appealed to my teenage romantic ideals). I would watch from the back of the auditorium, completely smitten. It was adorable how he never wore shoes to rehearsal and the way he would flip his hair out of his eyes (and oh, those eyes)! I even found his goatee endearing. I saw the way he interacted with his friends-- his goodness, his sweetness, and the way everyone wanted to be near him. There was no going back: I was head over heels for a boy that I knew mostly from afar.

I spilled my guts about my crush while riding in the back seat of a friend's giant wood paneled station wagon on our way to Denny's. A few of my friends were in the car, including one who was also friends with Pat. She loved the idea of us together, and squealed with delight. I tentatively mentioned that I had this crazy idea about asking him to my junior prom. The squeals echoed throughout the suburbs.

"Yes! Yes, you have to ask him!"

I thought it was a ridiculous idea--he knew who I was, we had some friends in common, but asking him to the prom would be so out of the blue and laughable.

"Ok, ok, I'll feel him out and see if anyone has asked him. I'll let you know."

Three days later, she had not only "felt him out," but had point blank asked if he'd consider going to the prom with me. I can still feel the burning mortification I felt when I found out about that. It wasn't the worst thing in the world though, because he said he would- and, according to my friend, he even thought it was cool that I was thinking about asking him. (He thought it was cool! Now that was squeal-worthy.)

I ran into Pat in the choir room that day, and I decided to go for it- just ask him right then and there. It was a moment of risk, and a moment totally out of character. It's also a moment I thank my high school self for- with out that moment of bravery, things certainly would have been different. He said yes, and I just about danced down the hall back to class. I was giddy! With glee! I was going to the prom with the boy I liked and life was grand.

My journal entry from that day (March 27, 1998) has a drawing of me sitting on Cloud 9. Key phrases from the rest of the entry: YIPEEEEE! I'M SO EXCITED! Today was such an awesome, perfect day! (See? The journal stuff is Embarrassing, capital E.) I'm sure I have a mortifying photo to go with this post... I'll see what I can dig up.

The name or our website could be construed in a few ways, now that I think about it. There could be some confusion if you didn't know how much time there was between that Prom and that Altar. Hopefully this history will clear that up: It's been awhile!

Ok, Patrick: Your turn.