it wasn’t so much fireworks as a burning hole of humilation in the pit of my stomach

When you’re a family of four (almost 5) with divorced in-laws (six grandparents!) there are LOTS of anniversaries and birthdays in addition to the general holidays. A long time ago we as a couple decided to stop celebrating every single momentous day in our relationship, because – ugh.

But. Today is the six-year anniversary of the day we met. I’ll never, ever forget that day, because I’d been looking forward to it ever since my future sister in law had told the cutest story on Halloween about her brother. I knew I would meet him during Thanksgiving week, and I planned to make sure I was smokin’ hot all week because I wasn’t sure when.

The other reason I’ll never forget that day is that those fudgeERS did not tell me the man was a vegetarian (how did I not guess that! The whole family is vegetarian!) and so my flirty little invitation designed to get the man alone for a few minutes bombed because of course! What did I ask him? If he wanted to take a walk to the hot dog stand with me.

When I left, face burning and stomach in knots, I could only hope that my smokin’ hot outfit and my perfect-for-once hair made some kind of impression. Plus I had TeenHer with me that day and she was 6, and they played a little go fish game together so I covered the base of making sure he knew I was a mother and also that my kid was the cutest kid ON THE PLANET, all at once.

We ran into each other again at the end of the week. Somehow he was able to overlook my extreme dorkiness (personally I think it had something to do with the ass-pants I was wearing that night) and the rest, as they say, is history. Our story.

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