Happy Valentine's Day! Of course I've gotta spend this Storytime Sunday talking about my handsome , thoughtful man. Here's how we met, became friends, and started dating:
We both attended Camp Glisson since we were in 4th or 5th grade. So we could have possibly met some time as children or teenagers but we don't remember it at all. Side note: Glisson is where we took our engagement photo session In March 2015. There's kind-of an old joke that when a couple is thinking about getting together at camp, they go over to the waterfall to "pray at the falls" but they end up kissing. So here we are, "praying at the falls."
We both came to serve on summer staff at Camp Glisson in 2011. We assume we met at a training weekend in April 2011, but we don't remember meeting. That year, my three best friends still also worked at camp, and Brian fell into a different friend group. So we
knew of each other but we didn't
know each other.
At camp, staffers are mostly (but not exclusively) closest friends within their own age group. Although in 2011 we didn't cross paths too much, when we both returned in 2012 our age group had dwindled so we sat at the same table more often, hung out in the same large groups more often, etc. It also "helps" that my three best friends didn't return to camp that summer, so I was forced to branch out and talk to other people. Within the first two or three weeks of camp that year, I think I'd had about three brief casual conversations with Brian, and I told my friend Erica that I though Brian was cute/funny/nice/whatever.
I was on "support staff," meaning I worked behind-the-scenes and didn't have any campers of my own. Brian worked as a Sparrowwood counselor, meaning his campers had special needs, and they didn't check in to camp until Sunday evenings. So he would help out with the typical campers' checking in the afternoon. My duty during check-in was to drive around the Gator, picking up suitcases from families that had to park at the bottom of a hill, and bringing their suitcases up the hill near their cabins. I could usually stack up about seven suitcases each load, including wedging one in the passenger seat.
One Sunday afternoon during check-in, I was driving past Brian, he waved me down, and he asked if he could ride with me and help with suitcases. I froze, and thirty things whirred through my brain: "I'd have to talk to him one-on-one," "Would I be showing favoritism by letting him ride in the Gator," "I don't think I'd fit as many suitcases in each trip," "Wait, he actually knows who I am?" I was obviously torn, but standing right behind Brian was my friend Erica, and she was emphatically nodding, mouthing "YES," encouraging me to do the obviously better choice.
For the last six weeks of camp, Brian and I loaded and hauled suitcases together every Sunday. We fit much more than just seven suitcases, because we would pile them high and he would hold on to them as we headed up the steep incline. I have no idea why, but we took pictures of each other one Sunday.
We talked during this time each Sunday, eventually exchanged phone numbers, and started texting to coordinate where we could spend our breaks together. Thursdays were always my toughest days when I had been up all night slow-smoking hundreds of pounds of meat. He would use his break to come check on me, help me with the firebox, and chat. It was very cute.
We discussed our mutual fascination with Fred Glisson's cabin- the abandoned cabin that the camp's founder once lived in. It is still fully furnished and even has dishes in the cabinets. It's a normal thing for people to try to sneak in, and it it spooky. A tradition is to bring a random thing and take a random thing. We decided we would go on a Friday nigh after work, but we didn't specifically discuss whether or not we would invite a pal along. Each of us was wondering whether or not this was "alone time," you know, like a "non-date." We met up, saw no other friends around, and explored the cabin. It was a fun mini-adventure and I remember being so nervous, trying to act normal.
Our next non-date made my heart flutter, too. Early on on our conversations, we talked about our "camp bucket lists," stuff we wanted to do at camp before we finished up the summer. Two of mine were riding on a creepy broken elevator in the dining hall and getting on the roof of a building. Mid-to-late summer, we went on a walk together. I didn't realize he remembered those things and hatched a plan to cross them off the list. It was very sweet of him. We broke into the dining hall, rode on the elevator, which was pretty scary, and we climbed on the roof of the Craft Shack, where he finally admitted he "liked" me.
We went on our first "real" date to Mellow Mushroom, and he accidentally dropped a piece of pizza on me. We went on our second "real" date to see
Step Up 4, and he saved the ticket stub and gave it to me in a memory box on our wedding day. He is the sweetest, most thoughtful man. After camp ended, we met each other's parents and became "officially" boyfriend and girlfriend. He helped move me into my dorm room and carried my bed up a ladder, which won over my roommate. We went to colleges four hours from one other but it was worth it. We had a good feeling about each other, and we still do.
