Encore Part 2

A few weeks have passed since our second first date.  It was a lot

more comfortable than our first first date.  (But, I suppose you

assumed that, knowing that we are married.)  We went VCR shopping.

And some say romance is dead.

Since our second first date, it has been a smooth downhill walk in the

sailboat park, that is to say, spectacular.  We have gotten along so

well that I begin to suspect Wendy's original motives for breaking up

with me.  We both came into the relationship with unblemished records.

 Neither of us had been dumped.  Now, admittedly, in Wendy's case,

this was much more spectacular.  (if you know what i mean)(wendy got

around)(in the most mormon sense of that phrase)(translation- she

kissed a lot of boys).  For my part, I had not had as many

girlfriends, but was still proud of my streak.

Wendy decided that she should dump me to be the sole holder of the

crown.  OK, perhaps, that was not it.

I am head over heels in love with this girl.  I have been given a

second lease on life (I am going for a lot of cliche, in case the

sailboat park thing wasn't obvious) (not that I want to put all of my

eggs in one basket or kill two birds with one stone or for that matter

throw an egg or a stone in a glass house made of lies).

I had known that I liked Wendy when we wooed.  (sorry, w's make me

meander meaningfully- ok i apologize.  i need help.)  When we were

withdrawn, (uh oh) I found that I loved her.  Now that we have been

back together for a few weeks, I know that I want to marry her.

And it scares me.  It scares me because I know that if I blow it, it

is going to wreck me.  So, I hatch a plan.  (Doesn't "hatching" a plan

make it so much more sinister?) I know that the drug note induced her

to break up with me.  I decide to take off the pressure completely.

If I need to wait for years for her to want to go steady, (that's

right, I just said "go steady") I will.

In December, we are on a date at Disneyland (that's how i roll). I ask

her what her plans are for the summer.  She says she would like to

live in Maine.  I think, this, my boy, is not a good sign. But, I

play it cool.

"Maine sucks."  Wow, maybe I need to play it a little cooler next time.

In February, plans of summering in Maine are gone.  We are now a

sickening sight to my friends.  We spend all of our time together.  We

cuddle, and snuggle, and all sorts of other unmanly things that force

my friends to ban me from their presence.  (We do not use baby talk,

however.  Just so you know.)

In March, it happens.  We are sitting in her car.  It is cold, and now

her friends have turned on us, so the car is our haven.  We talk about

how much we enjoy each other.  I am very unsettled.  Last time we

talked about us, it ended with me licking my wounds.  (i actually

tried to lick my broken collar bone for dramatic effect as I left the

dumping ground, but it was too painful. or not.)  I am not saying that

I love her.  That is for sure.  Last time I made that mistake.

"So, uh, I really like you"

"Thanks, Tyler, I love you."  WHAT THE WHAT THE!  I now have a

decision to make.  I know that etiquette demands that I tell her I

love her too, given that I do love her too, but I have made such a

firm pact not to use those words again that I stall.

"Uh. sorry, what was that?"

"I said I love you."  Crap, that only bought me about half a second.

"I love you, also."  Crap, there it is.  Out in the open.  I slink

back into my seat.  Waiting for the damage report.

Wendy smiles.  She looks out the frosted windshield with a huge grin

on her face, and sits in contented silence.  I feel warm and happy,

and my fear is gone.  Well, part of it. Because-turns out the

conversation is not over.

"I love being with you."  I say.

Wendy pauses.  She contemplates.  Oh no, I think.  Was this a trap?

Did I just make another mistake.  Is loving someone OK, but not loving

their company.  MAY DAY!

"I love being with you." she replies.  whew.  "I can't imagine not

being with you."

"I concur."  Really? Concur?  You, sir, are an idiot. "I hope that we

shall never be apart"  I add.  What, am I, Victorian?  I resolve to

shut up.

"Well, there is a way to make that happen."  What?  Is she hinting at

what I think she is?

"Is there now?"  I reply.  Look, I am sure as hades not bringing up

marriage with this girl.

"Yes".  She apparantly doesn't want to say it either.

"Oh, what is this way?"  I continue my cross.  Perhaps, now, it begins

to make sense to you, dear reader, why I opted to not practice after

graduating law school.

"You know"

"Do I?"

"Are you going to make me say it?"

"Say what?"

"Fine, we could get married."

"Well, it is an idea."  But now I am freaked out the other way.  I

mean, I know that I want to marry this woman.  I can do no better.

A man that I respect advised me to marry someone better than I am.  I

always joke with my friends that that advise was a life sentence to

bachelorhood.  There was simply no one better.  (It was a bad joke.)

But, here I am, sitting in the car with the funniest, kindest,

prettiest, warmest, best kissing, reddest haired, funnest woman that I

had ever met.  Someone entirely out of my league.  And the thought of

actually getting married freaks me out.

"It is an idea."  I add for good measure, "We should definitely consider it."


 I had intended to post some personal pictures from Texas tonight, but everything is being so lame.  So, enjoy some random pictures of our kids from my phone.    ?


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