Love Story - F&H

(absolutely in love with this image from FIELDGUIDED)

I never grew out of my 6-year old self and still find joy in all things Valentine's Day.

Celebrate a holiday with oodles of pink, hearts, and sweets? I oblige.

Today I am wearing red, with pink painted nails (one with a white heart), and homemade Valentine treats to pass out. 

I apologize in advance if you are in protest of today and the lovestruck, PDA-inclined people that come along with it, but things are about to get mushy gushy up in here. 

I thought today would be a sweet day to share an abbreviated (but still novelesque) version of F and my love story. 

We met at a party of a mutual friend. 

F was standing by himself. Not in a I-have-no-friends-feel-bad-for-me way, but in a I'm-cool-and-confident-just-by-myself.

I noticed him and was intrigued by his confidence as I'm someone that feels crazy uncomfortable without a friend by my side in such situations. 

I noticed him more when he pulled out his iPhone. 

This was the dark ages people (2007) and touch phones were a thing of the Jetsons. I'd never seen one in person. 

I approached him and our very first words exchanged were, 

"Is that an iPhone?! Can I see it?"

He casually tossed it my way and responded, 

"Sure. Don't break it."

It was L-O-V-E people.

(Me and the iPhone I mean.)

A couple weeks go by and I see him at a party.  

I walk up and peppily say, "Hi! Do you remember me?"

He responds, "No."

(Before you start thinking that F is a total stink pot, know that there is a happy ending coming.)

To abbreviate the next six months.

Acquaintances: friendly, occasional texts, see each other by happenstance

Friends: We spent time together. Platonically. Usually with other people.
I feel it must be noted that I'm a total scaredy cat and didn't want to walk the whole 1.5 blocks to F's apartment by myself at night. He and his roommate would walk to my house to escort me and then walk me back home.

I enjoyed his company, but didn't feel like a prioritized friend.
We saw each other less, talked less, and grew apart. 

Months passed and we decided to catch up over bubble tea. 

He had a bit of a history with showing up late. 

I told him that if he wasn't there when I got there, I was going home. 

I was so confident he would be late that I stopped and bought milk at the corner market.

I figured I'd pop my head in, he wouldn't be there, and I'd head home with my beloved dairy in hand. 

To my surprise, he was there. 

We sat and talked for hours. Something was different. 

We were vulnerable, honest, kind.
We shared stories of our hearts hurting after relationships gone wrong in our months apart. 

We were sounding boards for one another. 

We started to study together.
The same coffee shop. Every day. 

We sat across from eachother and chatted, read, studied, and walked home.

Day after day.
We continually told people that no, we were not a couple. 

We joked that the reason we weren't dating anyone was because they assumed we were together and that we should get t-shirts made that said, "This is totally platonic."

We were friends. 

Solid, blunt, intentional friends. 

And, then summer came and I moved the six hour drive home. 

What started as a text every now and then soon turned into every day phone calls.

There are few things in life as exciting as this stage.
Capturing each and every moment of your day and storing it into your head until you can spill it all out with each other on the phone.
Talking about nothing and everything.
The way your heart flip-flops when you see their name show up on caller ID.

But still, we were just friends and happy with things just as they were.

Invited to my friend's wedding, I convinced F to be my date and come visit for a week.

The roadtrip and wedding were bettered by his company, especially since I knew only the bride and groom.
Driving home from the wedding, I got pulled over for speeding. 

(I confidently set my cruise control, but missed the sign that the speed limit changed.)

I was devastated and sad and shaky. 

F grabbed my hand. My thumb to be exact.

( My mom once told me a story of a boy she knew in college that had gargantuan hands. When they danced, she held only his thumb.
I thought this was so tender and shared the story with F in one of our rambling phone chats.)

Goosebumps. Tingles. Shock. Excitement. Confusion. 

There was a whole heck of a lot going on inside of me. 

We got home. We didn't talk about the hand holding. We watched When Harry Met Sally.

We kissed.

Terrified of ruining our friendship, I panicked and told F I wanted to date or stop kissing.
(Or did I? What was happening? What were we doing? I felt hot and panicky and so comfortable all at the same time.)

We did what all adults do and decided to do a verbal pros and cons list. 

F: "I'm starting law school. Con."

H: "I'm studying abroad in London soon. Con."

F: "I like kissing you. Pro."

H: "You make my heart beat fast. Pro."

....

Left without a sure answer, we turned to the trusted game of Rock, Paper, Scissors. 

A few epic hand throws later, and we were official. 

We both agreed that this would either be something where we dated for 2 weeks and never talked about how weird it was again or it would last a long time. 

(Spoiler alert: we are married.)

A couple months into dating, Francis became a Christian. 

The boy with the iPhone I met at a college party completely transformed in a God-fearing man. He laid down preferences for me, listened to my secrets, called me out when necessary, and loved me so well (and continues to.)

The next 4 years of dating were filled with lessons, hard conversations, moments so good I thought I'd combust. I saw a sweetness revealed within F that I never knew existed, a beautiful vulnerability. We both grew and matured and celebrated and fell in love. 

Then, on a chilly, December night in downtown Chicago, in a quiet park a block off of Michigan Avenue, Francis dropped to his knee and asked for my forever. 

I am in awe of how much we have changed from the 2 youngins who crossed paths 7 years ago.

God is so good to have made him mine and me his. 

Happy Valentine's Day, darling (and to my dear readers as well). 

xo, H