The Beginning of my Fairy Tale Life

I want to introduce all y'all to my husband. I talked to him a little bit on the post about Vulnerability I could talk for days, weeks, months and years about this man. But I'll keep it to a blog post, for now.

Johnny was born in Logan, Utah. He has lived in many cities and towns, as well as out-of-state for some summers. He was born on May 23rd, just two weeks before me. Coincidence that 23 is my fave number? I think not.

He lived most of his childhood life with his mother in Vernal, Utah. When he was in middle school he moved to Salt Lake to live with his father.

We met for the first time when we were just about to turn 21. We turned 21 across the sidewalk from each other, each had our 21st birthday parties at our apartments, and unknowingly wished we were hanging out with each other instead of the present company. Weird how that works, huh.

The first time I spoke to Johnny was at my mailbox. I call it "mailbox day" because you know my 21-year-old self posted about  "talking to the hot pool boy" on Facebook. We had been "creeping" on each other for a while. Months, actually. All spring and summer it was admiration from afar. Not that I didn't try every stupid trick in the book to get him to talk to me. He worked in apartment maintenance. How could I possibly get him to come to my house when I'm home without being forward and asking him out? Oh, just break the window screen in my bedroom. (WHO WAS I, SERIOUSLY???) I broke it. My friend and I decided it would be the least expensive thing to "break" (aka we pulled it out of the window and I bent the metal a little) and called the leasing office. They said they didn't have a work order for that day but would call to set up an appointment for tomorrow. YEEESSSSSSS. I was so stoked.

The next day I went to my super cool job at Gold's Gym, and waited for the call. Nothing. I got home, and my window had been fixed! WHAT WAS THE POINT IN BREAKING IT IN THE FIRST PLACE IF I WASN'T GOING TO BE HOME WHEN HE CAME OVER.

I had to get more creative. I purposefully walked down to my car (our parking stalls were next to each other) more than I needed to, went swimming almost daily because his apartment was next to the pool. I was THIRSTY, y'all. I wanted to hang out with him SO BADLY. Months. Nothing. Never came to talk to me, would smile and say hi but that's it.

Come to find out, he thought I was dating my brother. Zach was crashing on my couch and Johnny thought he was my boyfriend. Anyway- Mailbox Day.

My mailbox was broken. I couldn't get it to unlock and my key was basically useless. I caught Johnny outside (still didn't know his name at that point, he was "the hot pool boy") and asked him to help me with my mailbox. I had a Netflix DVD in there for weeks and I wanted the next one in my queue. 2010, amirite? He got the mailbox open. His pickup line was "that movie sucks, you can come borrow a movie from me anytime". Ohhh the days of limited streaming. That would NEVER work in 2018. I was in the middle of telling him how I'd love to come check out his movies when my date pulled up. I was going on a first date, which actually turned out to be the worst first date I'd ever had. I said goodbye and got in my date's car. As we drove away I text my best friend "I just met the hot pool boy." and thought about Johnny the entire night.

About a week or so later, I was hanging out with a girlfriend at my house. We had been drinking Sailor Jerry and Dr Pepper and watching hilarious YouTube videos on my porch with an excellent view of Johnny's apartment. I wasn't like drunk, drunk but I was definitely not sober. I noticed that Johnny and his roommate were home. Perfect. Two of them, two of us- I was making my move. But go down to his house to ask for a movie? Nahh, too obvious. What I really needed to do was devise a plan to get him to come outside without him knowing I wanted him to. I walked in the house to get more Sailor and saw a vase on my dresser filled with black decorative rocks. LIGHTBULB MOMENT. I could throw the rocks at his door, he'd come out, I'd blame it on some kids and casually bring up borrowing a movie.

I'm a genius because the plan worked perfectly. He bought it. He invited us over to come borrow a movie and have a beer. So, we went. I told my friend on the way down to his apartment "one in the stripes is mine" because she was not well versed in HPB vernacular. "His name is Johnny. He's mine. You can have his roommate, or not. Whatever." I was extremely clear on this. I was not about to mess this one up. We went inside, they gave us beers and we started talking. I didn't know this until literally years later, but at one time during the night when I was talking to Johnny's roommate, my "friend" went up to him and said "You know she has a kid, right? I don't have a kid. You know she's divorced, right? She has baggage. I don't"..... yeah I don't hang out with her anymore for unrelated reasons, but just goes to show I should have been more observant. He knew I had a kid. He didn't know I was divorced but I had told him earlier in the evening. I brought it up in almost the same phrases. "Yeah I have a 3-year-old, he's at his dad's for the summer." He said "well it's not like you've been married or anything, right?"  Yeah. 21 and divorced with a 3 year old, over here. "Actually I'm divorced as well." He took it pretty well. (His parents divorced when he was little. He always had a weird view on marriage and told me many, many times over the years that he wasn't interested in marriage in any way.)

That night was the first night I kissed Johnny. How lame is it that 8 years later I still remember almost every detail of that night? By the way, this was a Thursday night. I didn't leave his house until almost 4 am. He had to wake up and be at work by 7. I fully didn't expect to really hang out with him again. It was a possibility, but I wasn't sure where we stood when we were sober. We hung out that next day. And the next day, and the next day, and every day until the day he left for hunting. While he was on his hunting trip, I ended up moving out of that apartment complex and into the condo complex that his roommate happened to work at.

While he was hunting, I went to a house party at his house that his roommate threw. Johnny's most recent ex-girlfriend showed up with her friends. Apparently word had gotten out that Johnny had moved on and in a very "mean girls" type of way she let me know that she and Johnny would be getting back together. He loved her and hanging out with me wasn't serious. I was so sad. I had no reason not to believe her. I had heard her name and knew they had dated for like 2 years. I felt stupid for being so hung up on Johnny already and kinda gave up. When Johnny got home from hunting, he called me. He wasn't really a texter, still isn't. He'd still rather talk on the phone. (Which I would hate if it was anyone else but him. Please always text, don't call me unless someone died)

He wanted to hang out that night and couldn't believe I just up and moved without telling him. I was so surprised. I asked him about his ex. He had no plans on getting back with her. He told me he was falling in love with me less than a week later. I grew up obsessing over chick flicks. I fully expected to meet my prince charming and that he would sweep me off my feet and life would be sunshine and daisies and all would be perfect in the world. Obviously that isn't the case for ANYONE EVER. But I had one part of it. I had that "first time you see each other electricity". The moment in the rom-com where the two lead actors finally speak to each other and you ALREADY KNOW they're going to end up together after some laughs, a scary moment, a little tears and a reunion at the end of the movie. Johnny was my lead actor. He is still the only person to this day that completely captivates me. I am obsessed with every inch of him. It is almost nauseating, even to me. I knew I had part of the Happily Ever After equation, I just needed the ring and the white picket fence and the cute babies and I'd be set.

Our relationship up until this point has been anything but a fairytale. I mean, it feels like one most days. But it hasn't been. We've broken up and gotten back together so many times I've lost track. That was the first 3 years. The last 4.5 years we've been together we've never officially broken up. We've had fights, some close calls. We have been through things that would tear any couple apart, but we made it through. That's the real fairytale. Being able to go through the darkest, scariest time in your life with someone and come out the other side stronger. The glass slipper to wedding portion isn't the fairytale. It's the conquering the dragons and the end of the story where you ride off into the sunset knowing you'll always be together.