(this is a very delayed posted…meant for Valentines Day)

Our first Valentines Day fell on a Friday.  I was in my last semester of graduate school at Frostburg and Justin was, as you already know, was “spinning his wheels” at Galyans.  Each weekend, I would drive home from western Maryland and work 3 shifts at the store between the chaos of classes, my internships and job searching.  Each Friday, I woke up feeling a sense of pure excitement – - the kind of excitement that you can probably recall feeling when you were a kid and it’s Christmas Eve.  You have a WHOLE DAY to live through until the big day and it seems like it’s going to be unbearable, but, at the same time, the waiting and the curiosity about how it will feel is somehow exciting.  That is how Fridays were for me.  And so, inevitably I would try to make each Friday go by as fast as possible so that I could get on route 68 headed east and to the store, to see “Ase.” Friday, February 14, 2003 I would rush through my day, accepting valentines wishes and heart shaped cut outs from my students, I would eat lunch with my counseling mentor, and leave promptly at 2:30 to get on the road headed east.  However, I did not have my usual weekend bags with me; no laundry to put through the machines at home, no Galyans nametag in my purse.  I drove eastward home, picked up “Ase,” and we made the trek back to Frostburg together.  It was the beginning of a weekend that would change our relationship from “we think we’re just having fun” to “we think this is way more serious than we thought.” 

To put our first Valentines Day into perspective for you, Justin and I met in November, 2002.  As you know from previous posts, our “first date” occurred somewhere between December 24th – January 12th.  So, this weekend fell just over a month after our first date.  In the time between our first date and Valentines Day, we had a handful of lunch dates, a few dinner dates, some looong phone conversations, and lots flirting over IM.  I don’t remember much about the drive from Frostburg to Gaithersburg but I can surmise that I was probably driving a little too fast, was probably listening to the Dixie Chicks and singing at the top of my lungs and probably made at least one pit stop at a Sheetz to fill up and grab a soda.  Folks after you drive across route 68 to route 70 to route 27 as many times as I have the trips all blur together.  Only a few of the probably 300 or 400 of those trips stand out in my mind.  This day is one of them.  I had picked up Justin at his parent’s house; he was all ready with his overnight bag and several grocery bags full of mystery food that would later be used to cook an impressive dinner.   I was so excited to see him.  It was a nervous kind of excitement that accompanies a newer relationship and if I had to guess, I think he probably felt the same way, though he tends to hide that type of thing much better than I do.  

As we made our way down routes 70 and 68 the conversation meandered from the details of our day, our week, our frustrations with our respective places in life; me, job searching and completing an counseling internship in a low income region of the country; him, working with people who had become his inner circle of friends in spite of a rather corrupt management overseeing the store.  Justin introduced me to Radiohead, which I really hated at first, but pretended to like and now actually do really like. And we talked about the people in our lives;  our families, the students, teachers, co-workers and friends who we saw on a day to day basis.  We talked about Jim, Justin’s closest friend at that point and the person who helped bring us together.  Jim was Justin’s confidant and advisor in all things “relationship.”  The professor of the “DTR” discussion and “if there isn’t a ring, it’s fair game” rule.  And here’s the thing, Jim was almost always right – -for the most part he knew what he was doing.  It was Jim who advised Justin to not tell me that he was falling in love with me that weekend.  About 45 minutes into our trip, we were talking about Jim.  Justin was filling me in on some random things they had done that week, conversations they’d had about me and Justin paused.  I heard  him take a sharp breath in.   “Er, sorry I.  I just. I thought of something that we.  We talked about something that .  Hmmm.  Ummmm.  He doesn’t really think I should.  Well,  the thing is. I.  I think.  I told Jim that.  I’m falling in love with you.”  I was driving.  I was on route 68 about 15 miles past the Hancock exit about to round a curve in the road that lead to an enormous hill overlooking one of the most scenic parts of western Maryland.  Radiohead was thumping ever so lightly in the background.  These details I remember.  I also remember smiling.  “I think I’m falling in love with you too.”

Justin cooked chicken marsala with risotto and Valpolicella (red wine) for our first Valentines Day meal.  It is a meal he has repeated for us every Valentines Day until this year.   I was in awe of his cooking skills; he had consulted with the guy at the wine store to match it to the meal.  It was the best meal I’d ever eaten – -and not just because it was cooked by my new boyfriend who had professed his love to me a few hours before.  Well, maybe that was part of it,  but it was seriously an awesome meal. 

That night, as we slept in my tiny basement apartment, a very large snowstorm hit Frostburg.  Actually  - it was a blizzard and it lasted 5 days.  For the first 2 days the front door to my apartment was literally snowed shut and we couldn’t see out of any of the windows.  On the third day, the day Justin was supposed to return to work, we ventured outside to try and unearth the car.  It was useless and I know we probably made a good faith effort, but honestly, we were perfectly content being snowed in together.  We walked blissfully to the store to get more food and wine; I remember rice krispie treats and ice cream sandwiches.

We took those first tentative steps together on Friday the 14^th and by Wednesday the 19^th; I believe our fate had been sealed by the universe.