Friday, December 28, 2012

Life Story Part 1: The boy with the ugly Canadian hockey jersey

Awhile back, a favorite blogger of mine started writing her life stories. I love Courtney's writing and her blog. I don't like her sister's blog, but I like hers. Since she wrote about encouraging other to write their life stories, I kept thinking about it. I had always wanted to write down things that were important to me, but never did. This gave me an excuse to. So I have been. It has been fun and hard. At times, I have been embarrassed, but other times, it has awoken so many funny memories. I decided to start at my life where Ethan enters it. I was so young when I met him and he has always been my life. So here goes...

Life Story Part 1: The boy with the ugly Canadian hockey jersey


It was the time of year where you can feel a tangible change in the air. September. Fall was looming and the changing leaves and crisp air made it apparent. My older sister Megan was in a cloud of twitterpation as she prepared to marry her love, Mark. She had sprung her engagement and wedding date on my parents very suddenly, but my mom and dad didn’t flinch and trusted her choice. Her wedding date was one month after her engagement. As a family, we prepped as best we could, of course planning the obligatory bridal shower. The invitations went out and treats were baked.

Guests started to arrive. Megan’s college girlfriends, old young women church leaders, neighborhood pals and high school besties. One high school bestie in particular was a good friend of mine as well. Buffy had always acted as my older sister when Megan was too mean to do so. She taught me how to drive her old Mitsubishi SUV and let me wear her Gap boot cut jeans. Buffy was always kind to me and made me feel grown up. She arrived at Megan’s bridal shower and gave me a big hug. “We should hang out tonight after this bridal shower!” she exclaimed. I excitedly gave her my cell phone number and we made plans. She said, “You will have to meet me at my cousin’s house. Two of my cousins and their best friends have moved here from Southern California and they live on Center Street in Provo.” We firmed up our plans and hours later, I had an address in hand and was searching for the house.

I walked in to find a makeshift beauty salon. Over here was one guy cutting another’s hair, over there was Buffy waxing another guy’s eyebrows and then upstairs someone was taking a shower after getting their hair dyed. All of this didn’t go well with the typical boy scene I was used to. I had just graduated from high school the previous May. I had spent my summer teaching swimming lessons and lifeguarding in the neighboring town. The boys I was familiar with were trying their hardest to break free of their Utah County confines by listening to obscene rap music and pretending they got drunk on the weekends. It was actually pretty pathetic to observe. The boys I was used to weren’t kind, they just wanted to make out, feel up my lifeguard body and move on.

At the house, I was instructed to sit on the couch and wait for Buffy to be done waxing, coloring and cutting. As I sat on the couch, the hair dye guy came down the stairs. He was wearing an ugly Canadian hockey jersey and some Christmas pajama pants. His hair was jet black and the corners of his forehead showed signs that that wasn’t his natural color. He sat on the chair opposite of me and asked my name. “Whitney,” I said, “What’s yours?” “Ethan.”

We sat in our seats and made small talk. He was very well versed in how to “get the chicks”. He flirted and asked for my phone number and I didn’t think much of it. But there were things that stuck out to me. For one, it was his confidence to come downstairs dressed so ridiculously. He didn’t care how he looked, he was still confident to ask for my number. Secondly, his quiet observance struck me. He wasn’t loud and attention-grabbing like his friends and housemates. He wasn’t just a talking head, trying his hardest to be the center of attention. He was funny and smooth. And he seemed like an enigma. And I always was attracted to the boys like that. Their quiet confidence always made my knees like jelly. I knew I had to get to know the Ethan boy and crack the code. BUT, he was older than me by three years and a returned missionary. I was 18 and fresh from high school prom and graduation all-nighters. He seemed way out of my league and I brushed off the notion and left with Buffy that night never considering another introduction.

4 comments:

  1. I love this! Courtney is one of my favorites, too, and her posts have given me a lot of food for thought over the years. I'm hoping to start on this same path to record some of my stories. I can't wait to read more of yours!

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  2. I can't wait to hear more. What a great start to an amazing love story!

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