We interrupt this last series of serious posts for a little lightness this week. Thursday is our nine-year anniversary, so I will have a few posts about my sweetheart. I think he needs a blog name other than DH. Not that most of you don’t know who we are, but I don’t want people to be able to google his name and find all of his personal info on this blog. He’s very important, you know. Hmmm, what should I call him? I kind of want to call him Prince because that’s what I often call him around the house. But does that make you think he’s a slightly adrogynous pop singer? Or an entitled, spoiled monarch? Perfect! Prince it is. Just kidding honey! OK, it’s decided. From here on out, BB will refer to my sweet, darling, nameless husband. For those keeping track, Lucy is our dog. She’s a terror and deserves a series of posts of her own.
For our first anniversary post, I’m going to take you back in time, to the time BD (Before Dating). BB and I were both students at the music school. I was a new freshman having moved from a small farm town, and I had my heart set on becoming an international opera star. BB was a mature (in my mind), older, first-year graduate student who wanted to be a classical singer but didn’t like opera. Because BB had not studied music in undergrad, he had to take a lot of intro classes, thus putting us in the same classes.
I can’t say for sure the first time that I met him. This memory has not been engraved in my mins. I can tell you when I first realized he was super hot. It was a really cold, snowy Chicago day, and I was standing in the school lobby. BB came in wearing his big puffy down coat with his bright blue Reebok hi-top shoes and his 1985 stone-washed jeans (yes, it was 2001), which were rolled up since he had just gotten off his bike. He pulled off his hot pink stocking cap to reveal his hot mess of thick brown curls sopping wet from a shower and a sweaty ride. He bent down to get a sip of water, and it was lust at first sight. You just had to be there. I wish I had the technological ability to figure out how to post pictures to this blog, but I am a literary type and can’t follow directions.
So when did I determine that he was a lot of fun to hang out with? BB’s closest friend in those days was also new to this music school and was a year ahead of me. We’ll call him Nisky, because that’s what BB still calls him. Nisky and I were friends as well so it didn’t take long before the three of us became friends. In one class, the three of us generally sat together in the back. Now, this class was awful and boring. To pass the time, BB and Nisky would pass inappropriate, vulgar drawings back and forth to each other to try and get each other to laugh out loud. Often, these drawings would also end up on my desk as they attempted to break me. I have always been a sucker for potty humor.
Another thing you have to understand about BB is that, at this time, the music school was not filled with your typical cool kids. We were dorky, artsy types. Not generally jocks. Not particularly attractive or charming. BB, former frat boy, having come from a normal four-year “real” college experience at a big university in the Southeast that had an actual football team, with brothers in San Francisco, old enough to drink alcohol, and having traveled Europe three times over, was the coolest thing I had ever seen. Guys like that did not normally talk to me, let alone pass graphic drawings onto my desk and tell me that he thought I was the smartest person in the whole class. [I know, he was pretty smooth.] By the time I went home for Spring break my freshman year, I told my mom that I was going to marry him.
But that wasn’t all that was unique and charming about BB. Midway through the year, he invited me to attend a weekly Bible study at his apartment. [Again, this guy is smooth.] At the time, I was a recovering Catholic. After 12 years of Catholic education and no real happiness or joy found there despite a lot of effort, I had sworn off religion for the joys of college freedom. However, when a super hot older guy invites you to his apartment, you go no matter the pretext. [If a future daughter is reading this, you should definitely NOT go, even if it’s for a Bible study; just ask your father about his motives.]
At those Bible studies, I really got to know BB as a person. I got to see his heart. He would open up to Romans and preach for an hour straight. There were about 3-5 regular attenders. Most of the attenders were Christians so maybe it wasn’t revolutionary stuff for them. But I was hearing the gospel clearly for the first time, and I liked it. Before long, I was home re-reading passages myself. BB started giving me rides to the study, which gave us time to talk. I was getting hooked on two beautiful men who changed my life.