Valentine's Day, a holiday I'd otherwise not care much about, marks the anniversary of Colby and I's first date.
You see, long before then, I had made plans. Plans that didn't involve boys. Plans to not be that girl who got married right out of school (high school or college). After college, I planned to move to San Francisco, be married only to my work for a number of years before I entertained the idea of settling down with a husband. And I certainly wouldn't have children at a young age, if any at all.
I credit much of that mentality to my high school career, where my stance was this: Boys drool. Most of my girlfriends had serious boyfriends at some point or another, and when boyfriends became their excuses to skip out on a girls night or otherwise allow their boyfriends to be the center of their world, it left a bad taste in my mouth. People settle down more quickly in small towns; they are breeding grounds for fresh-out-of-school marriages. And babies. And I wanted nothing to do with that.
But the second semester of my freshman year in college I reluctantly agreed to dinner. On Valentine's Day. With a boy. In fact, it was under strict conditions that it remain casual and friendly. We grabbed dinner on Kirkwood at a little pizza joint (that really wasn't that great..) and spent the remainder of the evening playing cards and watching [an illegal ripped version of] Lion King, my self-declared favorite movie ever.
Ten years ago, I went on an [un]date with the man I married right out of school. And had babies with. And have made ten years of memories with. And have been through ten years of life's highs and lows with. The one I've done life with for the past ten years. My best friend (and sometimes worst enemy), forever love, and life partner.
I'm thankful God had different plans for me than I had for myself 10 years ago.
Happy Valentine's Day to my favorite valentine! To many more… xoxo.