I don't remember the first time I met my future husband. In fact, I was a little creeped out when he pulled out a framed picture of me and him together from the first time we'd met. A picture I didn't remember posing for. It was on our second date (during which he pulled out the picture--not that I met him on our second date. Because really, is it even possible to meet someone for the first time on a second date? Perhaps if you have short term memory loss, because then every date is like a first date. I might be good at that, having short term memory loss, not going on lots of first dates, because I have an extreme fear of commitment--but that's for another post, I digress). When you go out with a guy, and he seems nice, and then you go out with him again, and he pulls out a framed picture of you and him, taken two years ago that you don't remember being in, he kinda seems creepy at that point. And that's my point--it was a little creepy, but not enough to preclude a third date.
Let's back this train up into the station. I had graduated from college at BYU (more stories on that later), had returned to Seattle to where my parents had moved whilst I was at BYU (seriously, couldn't they have done that sooner? I could have begun this sentence with "I had graduated from the University of Washington, which is so much cooler than BYU", or at least that's how I felt at the time), had decided to serve a mission for the Mormon church, of which I was/am part (sorta why I went to BYU I suppose--not many people who aren't Mormon do go to BYU, but some do, sometime I'll tell you about my Catholic friend who proclaimed me the patron saint of backing 16 passenger vans down narrow tunnels at BYU), had returned from my mission and was living back at my parents home, figuring out life.
It was during this period that said creepy photo was taken. I had chosen not to attend Sunday church meetings with other single people, and chose instead to attend the family congregation with my parents (this was due to some scarring experiences I'd had in singles congregations--also a story for another post), but my little brother was in town one summer from BYU, and he was totally in to the singles congregation, and was always like "Come on! just come to this activity with me! It'll be fun!" And I'd be like "you mean fun, like creepy 35 year old virgins hitting on 18 year old girls fun? or Marriage proposal on the second date sort of fun?" and he'd be like "You're such a downer, those 18 year old girls are smokin' hot!" and I'd be like, "but the 35 year old creepoids who imprint on me, the fat girl they assume is desperate enough not to notice their creepiness, but have decided that I am their mate for life upon first sight, are decidedly NOT smokin' hot, and whereas the 18 year old girls have all decided that you're fun, and not creepy, I on the other hand have no chance with you because you're surrounded by 18 year old girls imprinting on you, but mostly because you're my brother and that's gross." I think his experiences and my experiences with singles congregations were slightly different, and certainly less emotionally scarring for him.
But, I acquiesced and we went to this event--a BBQ at a state park if I recall. And sometime during that event, my brother, ended up in a photo with me, my future husband, and the girl that was in love with my future husband. I think she'd carefully arranged it so she could casually have a photo with Matt, because she was leaving soon on a mission, and wanted something to remind her of him. I was totally oblivious to all of this, was merely a pawn in her scheme --and apparently had no recollection of it at all. Good times.
So then, this girl, whom we will call Kit, to protect her anonymity, frames said photo, and mails Matt a copy of it from her mission a year or so later, probably so he'd have a photo of him and her together with which to anticipate her return, which arrived sometime between my first and second dates with Matt. If she'd realized she was sending him a framed picture of herself with him and his future wife with his future brother-in-law as a memento to remind him of her, she might not have reconsidered. Unless perhaps she thought that by doing so, he just might creep me out enough to scare me off. But I don't think so--Kit's a really nice girl. Regardless of motive, the deed was done, and there I was, sitting in Matt's car, staring incredulously at this framed photo of me and him and my brother and Kit. Of which I had no recollection of taking.
It gets worse. You see, when I told Matt I had no recollection of that event, he prodded me: "You mean you don't remember that day? or later that night when you came back to my house with a bunch of other singles and everybody swam in the pool?" And then it hit me--"Wait! I remember that night! That was your house?! I didn't swim much, I spent the whole evening sitting in the hot tub talking to Kit about her impending mission, since I'd just returned from mine. And no, no I don't have any recollection of you--sorry. But I do remember your house now--I wasn't sure whose house we were at, I just sorta followed my brother."
I think I hurt his feelings. Which may have been the first time, but certainly wouldn't be the last. In fact, if there's one thing that defines our marriage, it's chronic pain. But the second thing that defines our marriage is me chronically hurting Matt's feelings. I'm particularly insensitive, and don't have much of a filter, so yeah, that happens. A lot.
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