I am happily married to a beautiful, sexy woman. Julie is the love of my life.

We first met in the seventh grade when her family moved to Texas. I’ve had a crush on her ever since, despite the initial rejection over 30 years ago.

Back in the seventh grade I would try to walk her home, even though it was at least one mile out of my way. (I never told her that, I always said I was going to my grandparent’s house near her neighborhood.) About halfway between St. Monica School and her house was a little convenience store called H&H. All the kids who walked that route usually stopped there for Dr Pepper, those nasty tubes of colored sugar we all used to love, and other crap that kids ate in the 70s.

One time I got her alone, away from the other kids. She was sitting on H&H’s front window ledge. I sat down next to her and cautiously asked her if she would “go with me”. Honestly, I didn’t really know what that meant, but some of my friends were “going with” girls, so I assumed it was important.

She said, “I can’t.” Now I was prepared for laughter, NO!, maybe even an OK. But “I can’t” left me dumbfounded. I staggered away, my ego devastated.

She claims to this day that she doesn’t remember the event, but it is etched in my memory forever. It took me another twenty-five years to work up the courage to ask her again.

This time she said yes and we’ve been happily married ever since.

Some things are worth waiting for.

Out.