Bizarre Declarations of Love

There are little things I come in contact with from time to time that always take me back to the earliest parts of my relationship with Ty. Long before we were engaged, before we were even dating, before we even knew where our first encounters with each other would one day lead, I remember so many little things about him. This is where it all began, as bizarre as some of these things may seem. 

Chacos. 

I can remember the first time I ever laid eyes on Ty. We were both at The Cub. I was with my group of friends, he was with his. We were sitting at tables right next to each other, and I thought to myself, "He's cute, but I will never date a guy who wears shoes like that." 

It's funny that I can remember thinking that. It's even funnier to look at where the comment eventually got me.

Somehow, I was able to look past his river shoes and come to love the man wearing them. And with the advice of a loving wife, he only wears these now to piddle around the house or, for their intended purpose, to wear to the river.

The Cuban.

Even after my first encounter with Ty, I was able to resist him (and his shoes) for a little while. I ended up dating someone in Baton Rouge, who was a mutual friend of Ty's, and that guy recommended that Ty and I ride together to Baton Rouge for game days.

I remember the first time Ty came to my house to pick me up for a trip. He put his hand out to grab my bag, and I extended my hand to shake his. He replied, "OK, We can shake hands, but I was just trying to get your bag."

I felt like an idiot, but a fast friendship formed. I was dating someone else, so there was no need for us to really impress each other. We could just be ourselves. For Ty that meant, we could grab dinner at a gas station, like he probably always did on his way to Baton Rouge. We pulled over at the gas station in Opelousas, where the only option for dinner was a sandwich called The Cuban. I was hungry, so I grabbed one of those and some cheese puffs, trying to acclimate to Ty's usual roadside dinner, and we quickly got back on the road.

What is in The Cuban? I couldn't really tell you. The sticker says "sliced pork," but I would say it was either bologna or bologna's nameless, mysterious first cousin. 

On my recent trip to New Orleans, I stopped at the gas station in Opelousas. I did not actually purchase The Cuban, but I took a picture of it and text it to my husband with a caption that read, "where our love story began."  

Sad, but true.

The Coasters.

With Chaocs and Cubans in our past, my friendship with Ty eventually evolved into something more. One of my best friends became my boyfriend. And as cliche as it sounds, I ran from that for along time because I didn't want to mess things up. Women are idiots sometimes, too. Or at least I am. I can't believe that I was ever willing to settle for anything less than him.

We were young and still in our "going out" phase, which often led us to our favorite karaoke spot, Tiki Tavern. I doubt I could hang there anymore, with my hatred of day-after-cigarette-smoke-bar hair and usual 10 p.m. bedtime.

This picture was probably taken the last time we were there. The night of our rehearsal dinner. We had lots of friends in town, and they always loved this little place, so we gave the people what they wanted.

That always included a duet of The Coasters' song, "Poison Ivy."

Life is much different for us now.

We don't eat at gas stations. Well, not as a family unit. I think Ty still frequents them for lunch.

We don't karaoke. Although, I'm currently dealing with the much worse, literal kind of poison ivy. My arms, belly and legs are covered in poison ivy from all the yard work we've been doing.

But even though life has changed -- and will continue to change -- more and more drastically, I like all the quirky things that brought us together and have turned into wonderful, strange memories.