Mister and I just enjoyed the 8th anniversary of love at initial ocular recognition. In August of 2003 following fervent recommendations from my roommate and co-workers, Andrew decided to casually comparison shop my romantic possibilities on an unannounced visit to my home.
Unbeknownst to Andrew, I was in my bedroom, on the phone, in the process of breaking up with my current boyfriend. And soon to be ex was throwing down some exceptional vocabulary (fickle, capricious, coquettish) with jilted malice in response to my decision to conclude our relationship on a cellular basis. But I couldn’t ignore the visceral throb to act immediately.
I shortly emerged from my bedroom in tear sogged pajamas, matted hair, and melted mascara to see my future husband on the couch. And I recognized this man I had never met immediately: he was my husband. I thought to myself, self, this is why we had to break up, over the phone, in a hurry. Now we can retreat back to our room and hide under the comforter, or we can wipe the snot off our cheeks and make the best of it. So I did.
As Andrew got in the car that evening, he called his mom and told her he had met the girl he was going to marry. She told him to do it at Christmas so that the extended family wouldn’t have to pay for extra flights. And being a doting son, he did marry me, five months later.
From there we searched out Coco, miraculously received Levi after seven years of infertility, and couldn’t be happier. Trite but true.
Serendipitously, Kristen Duke, helped us to commemorate our special date (see the rest of the shoot aquí). I couldn’t be more grateful; the woman is worth her weight in pegasus feathers.
And then she told me I could take a decent photo too! She sells her own little e-book, so I got myself my own little edition. Feel free to copy me, I won‘t mind.
In the meantime, how did you meet your Mister?
Feed me fashionably fresh
