I married my best friend Neal in a red dress, at a scout camp, holding our little’s boy Sam’s hand. After we said our vows, people danced, sat around the fire, and stayed the night. It was very un-wedding-like, but it was also very us. Our whirlwind love story had started at an annual camping trip with friends over the Christmas of 2003. Being with Neal was the easiest thing I had ever done, but initially, there was no attraction at all.
Let me paint a picture. For the entire week we were camping he wore the same outfit. It consisted of a pair of mint green shorts (which I’m sure were in fashion in 1986) and long hockey socks which were bright green, yellow and white (although they became less bright as the week wore on), accessorized with Maseur sandals and a bucket hat.
A few days into the trip, our friends saw something we didn’t. Apparently they were nudging each other, saying, “check this out.” Neal and I were chatting a lot about politics and agreed on each other’s perspectives and interests. We played Scrabble for hours and impressed each other with our wordsmith skills.
I had bagged him about his hairstyle, so on New Year’s Eve I got out my scissors and said, “I’m going to cut it.” As I touched his hair, it was the closest I’d ever been to him and I got this real sense of attraction to him. Nothing happened, but when I drove home I couldn’t stop thinking about him. A few days later we went on a date which ended with a kiss and he sent me a text message saying, “My heart is a flutter”.
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