Mr. and Mrs.: Part I – Our Story

“Let’s get married!”

“What???” I shrieked, as I visually checked him for a third head. 

“Yea, I mean we have always known we wanted to get married, so let’s just do it.”

You my dear reader are probably over there like, “What? You have a boyfriend?” And it’s a fair question. I have intentionally become quite private about my love life. Of course, if you know me in real life than you’ve heard about Mr. H in GREAT detail. Truly, no detail is to small for me to share. 

So let me share with you our story.

It all began… on a 737. 

It was 6am and I was commuting to NYC for a trip to Zurich. The Flight Attendants told me which seat was open and with a lingering thought about whether or not I had brushed my teeth that morning, I went and plopped down. 

“Hi, I’m Marty” the gentleman next to me exclaimed. A chill went down my spine… I definitely hadn’t brushed my teeth. Thankfully, service had started by then, and I quickly ordered a coffee thinking, “coffee breath is better than morning breath”. So as Marty talked to a disgusting monster… AKA me… and shared pictures of his daughter’s recent wedding, I focused on breathing very small.

Is it possible to breathe inside your mouth? 

There was no topic off limits and his son who had recently came home from a deployment in Afghanistan became the next topic of conversation. It was at this point that I discovered I had another equally bright eyed and bushy tailed seat mate on my right. 

Meet Beth. As soon as Beth heard that there was an eligible bachelor in the mix it quickly became a matchmaking conversation. I politely insisted I was “focusing on myself” because in my mind, what extremely wonderful and handsome man needs help finding a woman? I felt like I had left no stone unturned in Michigan dating wise, so if I had somehow not met him, there must be a reason behind it. Was he a serial killer? Who knows! 

But Beth was undeterred. She practically drug his life story out of Marty with her bare hands and I learned that not only was he a military guy, but he also was hoping to become a doctor. Mkay… I do like the sound of that. But again, he could be a serial killer? And what does he look like? No guy with that much going for him is attractive. That’s a unicorn. 

Beth saved the day again when she excitedly, (but forcefully) demanded that Marty show us pictures. And I quote, “I have a good feeling about this Christena. I think he’s your guy and that this was just meant to be” as she tucked away her Bible study (this woman is my kind of woman). And then I saw him. Plaid cargo shorts and all. He was dreamy. Tall, blonde, with brilliant blue eyes. 

That was it. End of story. 

I was in love.

Numbers were exchanged and I texted Mr. H something along the lines of “Hi, I just met your dad and he thinks we should meet up. I know it sounds bizarre, so here’s a picture of me so you don’t think I’m completely insane”. The logic behind using a picture of myself to prove I’m not insane is… well it’s ironic. 

A first date that lasted 5 hours.

A first kiss on the Detroit waterfront overlooking Canada. 

A trip to Argentina together and Germany and London and Paris and St. John’s and Colorado and Chicago and San Francisco… okay you get it, we like to travel together. 

A “welcome to the family, I told you so  *wink*” family dinner

A relationship filled with incredible highs and low lows. 

A joining of two very strong personalities

And now…

A marriage. 

When Mr. H suggested the idea of us getting married it was not a new idea. Since our very first date I knew that I wanted to spend the rest of my life suffering through his lactose intolerance and fly-fishing obsession with him. Haha! But truly, he is everything good and wonderful and I always knew that if I had the privilege of becoming his wife… well that would be the pinnacle of life for me. 

I swiveled in my seat on the couch to look him dead in the eyes after his shocking revelation that we should get married and said, “are you serious? Like really really REALLY serious?” I know, don’t start crying over how eloquent I am. He looked at me and said, “Yes, I’ve been praying about this for a month now and I know that this is right. I think we should get married as soon as possible” 

“As soon as possible?” I shrieked. Immediately I started crying because nothing could be more wonderful than marrying the man of my dreams and as soon as possible? Just slay me now. 

I’d like to say I didn’t know this was coming, but um… as the self-proclaimed busy body that I am, him walking around in the backyard with my dad talking about “trees” over Thanksgiving was not exactly subtle. You should have seen me hanging out the window trying to hear Mr. H ask my dad for my hand in marriage. I’d also like to point out that my mother isn’t innocent in this. It would be one thing if she could keep a secret, but her secretive smile and GIGGLE indicated that it was HAPPENING. 

And of course you’d think a proposal would come first, but do you know us? If there’s a normal way to do something, we take immense pride in doing the opposite. 

So immediately my wheels started turning that night. 

A wedding. 

I’m getting married. 

I’m going to be his wife. 

I didn’t sleep. Obviously. 

Now the question was when. 

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