Eighteen years ago, I met a boy with a tie-dyed Grateful Dead shirt, a bandana, and a mullet...oh and a girlfriend and I fell in love. I should probably mention that he was 18 at the time and I was a mere 14. Nonetheless, I developed, I guess, "a school girl's crush."
At 19 I met this boy again, only he wasn't really a boy anymore. He took me on a date where I ate tortellini in vodka sauce and then to play pool, er, billiards. And I fell in love. Truthfully, I fell in love after that first date and knew that this was the boy I was going to marry. And so I did.
Happy Birthday to the boy who makes everything better and has given me everything good.