A Cultured Pearl

How We Met

Posted on November 18th, 2015

{Not exactly a Wedding Wednesday post… but close enough?}

I love love. Romantic, platonic, familial– they pretty much all reduce me to a puddle of sentimental tears. The stories on the How He Asked Instagram melt my heart! I already shared our proposal story in September, but this week marks the 6th anniversary of my first date with Ian, so I thought I would take a little trip down memory lane and tell you all about how two know-it-all tweens became engaged to one another. Indulge me?

Some “How We Met” stories are longer than others– this one starts in 2002. Ian and I both sang with the St. Louis Children’s Choir, and our dads (colleagues at the time) introduced us, and then we promptly went back to ignoring one another. It was not until the fall of 2003 that Ian became a truly irksome force in my life, however. On Tuesday nights, he had the audacity to stand right behind me and sing off key. I now know this was a result of puberty and his voice beginning to change– he was 11– and an inability to match the higher pitches. At the time, I viewed it as a personal affront to my belief system and a deep character flaw on his part. Because I was a really relaxed person and so tolerant and patient.

(He defends himself by saying, “I was just trying to sing along with you! That’s all I have ever tried to do all these years!” He tries to soften me up with romantic babble. I’m not buying it.)

As you can clearly see, we were very cool.

Starting in the fall of 2004, we were forced to spend every day together as 7th graders… but I started to realize maybe he wasn’t so bad. He was super nerdy, but he owned it, and he had a brand of coolness all his own that I really respected. We continued singing together, too, which meant carpools and weekend interaction, and before I knew it we were friends.

So that was pretty much that for the next five years. We were good friends but certainly not best friends; I dated someone else for two years. The only glimmer of what was to come came in the spring of 2008 (while I was dating aforementioned high school boyfriend). Ian had brought his guitar to school, and we sang a duet of “Anyone Else But You” from Juno. I remember thinking about it later that night– how intimate yet comfortable it had been. Ian claims that’s when he started hoping for more.

The next 18 months were not particularly kind to me (Which is okay! Life is hard sometimes and less hard other times!), so by the time wearrived at our fall dance senior year I was pretty set on staying home. My mom had to bribe me with a new dress and new shoes and new Spanx and the promise I could leave whenever I wanted to get me to go. It was one of those massive group affairs where you take photos at a house with a big staircase and then try to go to dinner with 30 people and it’s so overwhelming. I saw Ian sitting at the table with an empty seat to his left and identified it as a perfect situation– he was non-threatening enough for my low self esteem, but a good conversationalist. The only photo from this dinner is a winner:

I remember the next 90 minutes in vivid detail. Surrounded by 28 of our classmates, it felt like we were having a private dinner for two. I remember what we talked about, but most of all I remember my heart being filled with so much warmth by the realization that I was finding myself totally enchanted by this person who had been there all along. For the first time in months, I felt totally comfortable and like I was right where I belonged in the moment.

But because I am not a Disney Princess, it was not smooth sailings and instant happily ever after. 12th grade is a horrible time to start a relationship, particularly when both of you are looking at separate colleges that are each scattered all over the country. I resisted, and relented, and resisted some more. Bless his incredibly persistent heart. When the dust had settled and our fates were sealed, I was committed to Vanderbilt in Nashville, and he was gearing up for a gap year in Paris before he would start Harvard. So that really should have been the end of that. But it wasn’t, and we didn’t want it to be, so we started long distance. I’ve already shared my thoughts on that, but the abbreviated version is NO THANK YOU. Hoping for a prom pic? You’re in luck…

PHEW we’ve grown up nicely.

The next years included some location shuffling– Ian’s family moved to Virginia, he started Harvard, I transferred to UPenn, I moved to New York– but we continued finding ways to make it work every day. The first half of college was hard for me; the second half was hard for Ian. They showed us a full range of flaws both in ourselves and each other that allowed us to press forward with full awareness of what wewere choosing. Of course, all of these shared years have also shown me how funny and creative and smart and loyal and loving Ian is, too.

By the time I gave up my New York life to move to Seattle in June, I was completely ready to throw my lot in with his. After all, I had helped him overcome cargo shorts and graphic tees, so I knew we were unstoppable together. We had so much fun together in our first four months of living together, so I didn’t hesitate when he got down on one knee in California. ~~The ring helped a little, too.~~