Day 3: My First Love
Initially when I read the assignment I was all, no, no I do not want to tell you people about my first boyfriend and his popped collars, coordinating clothes and more expensive shoe collection than most self-respecting men. I don’t see how this is valuable information. Also, it’s embarrassing.
Then I thought – oh I’ll tell you about *my* shoes. Until I remembered I used to be home schooled and I only wore Adidas sneakers or chunky black boots for like four full years so, while I have put in a valiant effort to redeem myself over the years that’s also embarrassing.
|Except my faves were all patriotic - Red White and Blue|
I could write about my sister, my best friend and probably my favorite person in the whole entire world. But that doesn’t quite seem appropriate either.
Anyway I Googled and I found this quote:
“We always believe our first love is our last, and our last love is our first.” - Francois La Rochefoucauld
No idea who that guy is but he seems to have it figured out. That being said, I think it’s true. I may have thought I was in love in high school or college, but clearly I was not. Now I am. So I’ll tell you about him.
He’s smart and funny and stubborn. He only wears blue or gray. He’s passionate about his dog and the Miami Dolphins. Change does not become him. He thinks I use too much liberty in my story telling on this blog and has threatened more than once to write “The Short Cut.” He thinks he might be Larry Bird on the basketball court. He grills for me all summer and is the best about doing the dishes when I cook. I’ll never have to do yard work – because he thinks I’ll chop off my left foot with the lawn mower or hit the house with the snow blower. He’s sweet in the most sensible of ways and makes me happier than I’ve ever been before in my life. I’m grateful everyday, for him, and that he chooses to love me.