Monday, July 21, 2008

Part Four: D&TT

(Scroll down if you haven't read parts 1-3)

Where was I? Oh yes, making-out in the make-out room (aka basement) with Jeremy Cla…

Have you ever dated someone who liked country music, and suddenly, your taste in music takes a steep nosedive?


That’s what happened next.


Don’t get me wrong, things with Jeremy had been going pretty swell since we finally got the kissing thing down. He was an attentive boyfriend, and we had a lot of fun together. In the basement. (sorry mom)


But, I found myself going from having impeccable music standards (see playlist) to standing in line at Hastings, ready to throw-down $15 bucks for a Martina McBride CD.


See, country swing dancing was very popular in Boise; there were regular country dances held every Saturday. Jeremy was an accomplished swing dancer, and I was half his size and easy to toss around. Together, we were Katie and Joshua from SYTYCD.


I hope you appreciate my honesty right now. I’m blushing, you know.


But dating Jeremy Cla was like someone coming into my neighborhood and purchasing the house next door for $100,000 over fair-market-value. He upped my property value by an estimated 20-30%. (Am I good at these analogies, or what?) The chicks really dug him, girlfriend or not, (including his gorgeous ex-girlfriend Angela) yet he wanted to date me: a three-bedroom starter home. Ahem. Anyway…


I started going to Jeremy’s Ward, and, one Sunday, I notice that he was wearing new (pricey) clothes. Heaven knows he needed it, but heaven also knew he was as broke as an old-school Nintendo, and refused to spend his money on new clothes (despite my gentle suggestions that he do otherwise) so I was a bit perplexed as to where he got them. As I'm walking toward him, Angela rushes over to me to say, very sweetly, that she hopes I don't mind that she bought Jeremy a new outfit, but she had noticed that he needed new clothes.


I was like, "Oh that was nice of you, thanks, you didn't have to do that, wow that's a nice shirt, oh you had his shirt size memorized from when you dated him, really, that’s great, I could use some new clothes too ‘hint, hint,’ no I’m joking, I wear size zero, no I’m joking, yeah, he looks nice, well, yeah, OK, bye, thanks!"


Now, this isn’t the first time another girl had gotten my boyfriend an inappropriate gift. In sixth grade, my best friend had a huge crush on my boyfriend, Aaron, and for Valentines day, she bought him an economy sized box of Heath bars (that was his last name), which made my 2-inch, hollow chocolate bunny seem like a hollow gift indeed.

(I'm in the middle, my friend in red is the "Heath bar" girl)

Good thing I’m not the jealous type.


Still.


Come on.


Common knowledge: don’t buy someone else’s boyfriend a gift, and don’t accept a gift from another girl when you have a girlfriend.


Everyone agreed? Good. On with the story…


Even after dating Jeremy for quite a while, I never really felt like his equal, and I wasn’t the only person who thought so. He flat out told me that many of his friends disapproved of me, and questioned his reasons for dumping Angela. After all, I was barely 18 at this point, and Jeremy was 25, going on 26. He was at a different stage in life. But Jeremy was really rooting for me to come up to his level.


And I tried my best to oblige.


To be honest, I had a long way to go to get where he was at in life. I had spent the previous summer, playing street hockey with the ninth grade boys who lived down the street from me, while most girls my age had spent the summer in their basements with boys their own age.


(here's my bedroom. I'm bottom bunk, and that's my ninja turtles poster)

But Jeremy didn’t give up on me. He began asking me “deep” questions about marriage.


I distinctly remember when this started. I was in my parents’ office on the phone with him, and he said (quite seriously) there was something he needed to ask me.


“If we got married,” he started...


(and of course my heart was doing ten lords-a-leapings because this was the first time a guy had ever mentioned marriage to me--but this would become commonplace in the near future.)


He continued, “and I got a job in Texas or some place out-of-state…”


“Yeah?” I asked, with baited breath…


“…would you come with me?” he finished.


Was this a trick question? I quickly said, “Yes,” because like, duh, we’re married, of course we’d live together.


Then he said, “So, you’d come with me?”


Me: “If we’re married? Yeah.”


Duh.


Him: “You’re sure?”


Me: “Yes.”


Duh.


Him: (sighing with relief) “Good”


I remember this question so clearly, because #1) it was stupid, #2) he asked me this same question repeatedly on a regular basis, #3) he truly believed that this was THE make-or-break-a-marriage question.


I knew what he meant. He wanted to know if I would leave behind my family to be with my husband, choose my husband over my parents. And I didn’t have to lie when I answered it; it was an easy question to answer truthfully, a given, really. I could think of a number of more important questions he could have asked, like, something basic, like, "do you love me?"


For several reasons, he was real hung up on that one question, and I’ll tell you why later.


Each time he brought this question up, I would get a little more annoyed by it. Several times, I remember rolling my eyes on the other end of the phone, and answering him very sweetly, “yes, I would move with you if we were married.” But my woman's lib side was screaming, “What about me? Do I have a say in this marriage, or am I just a piece of meat that you drag to Texas?!?”


Meanwhile, Jeremy decided that I should meet his mom, brothers, and sisters, so we made the trip to eastern Idaho. Usual awkwardness there. But that night, we went to a football game at his old high school, and about halfway through, he leans down to me, and, pointing down the bleachers, he says, “That’s my dad sitting down there.”


His dad notices us, and he sort-of waves, and that’s it.


See, his dad had left his mom when he was in high school, and, though they all lived in the same town, the dad had let his relationship with his kids fade away...


“Fathers be good to your sons, Sons will love like you do…” (<--John Mayer singing)


Poor Jeremy. He was really confused about marriage. He wanted to get married, but he was terrified of getting divorced—more so than the average picnic basket. And his dad wasn't the only person with a failed marriage that he looked up to...


So, Jeremy was looking out for #1 (himself), which meant that the best I could place was #2.


Man, I'm sick of writing this, and I haven't even gotten to the oatmeal part...

6 comments:

Amanda said...

This is crazy. Come on and finish the story! I'm sick of stalking your blog multiple times a day for the rest of the story.

Cristin said...

Yay, I'm not the only stalker!

I went through the country music phase...for a really cute cowboy who taught me how to swing dance. Why do we do that to ourselves???

Well you better finish your story, I want to get to the oatmeal part.

Jami said...

Thanks, I just spent an hour reading up on your blog to catch up. Now the kids are grumpy b/c I put your blog over their breakfast!! And don't lie...you totally were a playaz, all the boys at EFY dug the knee shorts!!

Krissy and Jason said...

I can't believe i have been missing out on this! You are crackin' me up (as always!) and i am on the edge of my seat waiting to hear the rest of the story! Now I know where to go when I need a good laugh!

Markie23 said...

Don't give up; and I for one am not anxious to hear the end... I'm enjoying all "the middle" very much. In other words, please don't summarize just to get to the point. I like details. The oatmeal can wait!

Emily said...

Keep it coming...