A Guest Post - an Extra Edition on How Chris and I Met

Remember when Grace started the How We Met link-up and all hopeless romantics were given enough reading material to last a good long while? I joined the par-tay and wrote my little novel about the story of us.

Well, my best friend, Laura, let me know that she wanted to write a guest post from her perspective on the whole thing - more specifically her perspective on the moment that she bluntly catalyzed the whole thing by asking Chris if he were interested in me. I was like a little bobblehead on a dashboard of a car that has never known a smooth ride; I couldn't nod enough as I read her request. Duh! Who wouldn't want to hear another take on her love story, especially when her best friend can write? And I mean write. 

Laura comes tonight (!!!) so I am posting her aside to our story and completing my end of the deal. I promised that I wouldn't edit anything before I published it ... and I had to publish it. Rookie. Laura looks at me with what must be the crème de la crème of rose-colored glasses. With that in mind, skip paragraphs 6-9!!! I won't tell her you skipped them, promise. (And I keep my promises since I am publishing this post, after all). 

And with that, take it away eLLe.

---

An early morning in a quiet office. I just put on “Of Monsters and Men,” because it reminds me of Chris and Katrina, of riding with them in the car on the way from Chicago to their home in South Bend and hearing Little Talks come up on Chris’s playlist.

I needed to set the mood. I’d told Katrina I’d wanted to write a guest post to complement one of hers, on a subject that I know about as well as any outsider could. There’s a love story on the line, and I’m not taking any risks.

The only error in Katrina’s “How We Met” story was calling me the personification of good (sorry Katrina, I had to correct it!); everything else was spot on and honest and unexaggerated. Katrina really did predict marriage after their first date. I remember her standing with me in a stairwell in McGlinn hall the morning after the Rugby formal and whispering, “he’s the one, Laura, he’s the one I just know it! I know I’m going to marry him.”

And she really did remember all those tiny tiny details, from Chris’s green sweatshirt, to her making a passing comment about his arms (I mean, they were pretty impressive). She wasn’t trying to embellish the story at all; things like that stick with her, and she loves to share them. That’s just Katrina.

Speaking of Katrina, I think we need to take a moment to appreciate what we’re working with here before jumping into all that falling in love stuff.

If she’s going to try to call me the personification of good, I think it’s entirely fair for me to say that she’s the personification of love. She loves, and she loves, and then she loves more. I’ve told her this before; I have a particularly vivid memory of doing so during a late night talk in my dorm room in McGlinn, one of those precious moments that’s tucked safely away in the long-gone universe of endlessly sun-touched days and star-speckled nights that have nothing to do with the actual weather, of life that seemed make-believe for all the indulgent time spent with your very best friends through all the very best and very worst times you live through (“Of Monsters and Men” was a good choice. Definitelyhelping with the mood). At the time, she was crying from worry, and hurt, and worry about not wanting to hurt. And I had to be her eyes for a moment; she couldn’t see herself clearly, so I was reminding her of who she was.

She’s a sensitive soul—I mean to say that she’s opens herself to others and to the world and has no hardness in her. Well, everybody probably has some hardness in them I suppose. Katrina must just have the most microscopic amount.

Well, it might take someone a little while to figure all that out about her. Not long, but a little while. What’s immediately and strikingly apparent, however, is that she’s eye-catchingly beautiful. Or all-eyes-catchingly beautiful, or something like that. She was known on campus for it, and I don’t know many guys who didn’t wish that they could have a chance with her (unfortunately for them, Katrina’s also extremely friendly, which was all too easy for a guy to mistake for interest). Yep, Katrina Corcoran was quite the looker, and plenty of boys (men—whatever) had no shame in looking.

I’d seen a fair amount of these “looks” from all different guys. The hungry ones whom we’d serve during our shifts at Reckers, the tired ones who’d just finished their football/ baseball/ basketball/ etc workout, the cocky ones who thought they could get something out of her, the quiet ones who hoped against hope for a hello (and who of course actually received one), the drunk ones who were mesmerized by the Irish-Filipino vision who was smilingly standing before them, the bookish ones who sat near her in class…if you still don’t have a clear idea of what I mean, let me know and I’ll start listing off names. Lots and lots of names.

Anyway, right, I’d seen all these looks from all these different guys. And then, one day, I saw an entirely different one. It came from that nice guy who’d so freely talked to me at several of the rugby parties I’d gone to, and who’d kindly kept me company in my solitar-ily sober state.

Now, how to describe this? It was like…it was like he was looking at her with his whole self. Does that make sense? No. Probably not. Unless of course you’ve seen the look I’m talking about. Every single thing that went into making up Chris Harrington seemed to be looking straight into the eyes of my best friend Katrina Corcoran. Every part of him seemed attuned to her, seemed noticeably attentive to each word coming from the mouth of this beautiful young woman who could basically quote every line from the ND Nation website and who knew the football roster better than he did.

I noticed the look each time we HAPPILY ran into Chris on campus. Which did happen quite a bit, and which we thoroughly enjoyed every|single|time. I mean, Katrina and I enjoyed a lot of things we did; it was kind of our underlying philosophy, and it wasn’t dependent at all on what actually happened, now that I think about it (it’s ok, you can laugh at us if you want. We don’t mind). But. We actually truly honestly really did enjoy the run-ins with the gentlemanly Chris Harrington—Katrina, for obvious reasons, and I, because this was just all so fun (ahem. I’d like to take a moment to put in writing, Chris Harrington, that I did not have a crush on you at all during this time. Or at any other. For the record!).

Sooo, what then was I supposed to do when I found out that Chris and his girlfriend had broken up? Katrina was certainly not going to say anything to him. And to be honest, I wasn’t really expecting that I’d say anything to him either.

It just came out. There we were, standing somewhere near the sandwich station in South Dining Hall, saying hello ‘n such, when poor unsuspecting Chris was gut-punched with a perfectly innocent question.

[paraphrasing!]:

“I’m sorry the breakup’s so rough. I can’t imagine how hard that is. [pause] Umm, this is really silly of me, and I probably shouldn’t be asking this at all, especially so soon after ending your other relationship…but can I ask you a question.”

“Definitely, you can ask me a question.”

“Are you possibly at all interested in Katrina? It just kind of seemed that way. Maybe.”

“Uh, that’s sweet, Laura. I think Katrina’s a great girl, but I’m not thinking about that at all right now.” (said with a kind smile, and in a way that didn’t make me feel terriblyridiculous for asking. Thanks Chris)

Maybe he truly wasn’t thinking consciously of it at that moment. Maybe I brought some hidden little thoughts to the surface. Maybe maybe maybe. We just might never know for sure.

Whatever the case, no one can argue with how it turned out, right? See Katrina’s story for a refresher on all the plot details, but there’s no doubt that that Look accurately foretold of a lifelong love. Chris Harrington ended up with the girl all the guys had pined after for so long, and Katrina won over the dashing rugby captain with excellent style. There’s so much more to them than that, and so much more could be said! Not right now, though. Nope, for now I think that’s just enough to show you that, for all of Katrina’s twitterpated-ness, there was a very similar thing running through the veins of that cool Mr. Harrington.

I've resisted doing my office stuff for too long now. Music is done, people are here, and I've got work to do!

----

Oh, she made me cry. 

She really is a treasure. I think our kids and grandkids will enjoy our story, but I will always cherish this little explanation the most. 

By the way, Laura ... I seem to remember you promising that you would read Twilight as a wedding present to me. Better get reading ... 

Marryin' in the Rain

As I mentioned yesterday, my best friend got married this past weekend! It really was such a lovely weekend. Both families were so excited, and of course the couple was a bit excited, too, as you can tell from the sweet photo below. 

The rehearsal dinner was such a good time and so sweet with bouquets of newly sharpened pencils and children's books for centerpieces. I remember three years ago when Ashley, Laura and I drove down to Charlotte, and they were putting up with my incessant wedding talk. Laura may or may not have slipped a line in that there could be a bouquet of newly sharpened pencils when she married Nick, her boyfriend of a month or two at the time. She had passed smitten and the car ride quickly turned into a giggling fest when we realized where her mind was already headed. 

Laura always had suitors wagging their tails as she passed. How could she not? She is beautiful, brilliant and the personification of good (yes, you are Laura! Everyone agrees with me so I am preeminently halting your denial of it). Nick was not an overt suitor, but I remember someone telling me how whenever she spoke in their classes together he would always have this happy look on his face with a slight smile just giving away his admiration. Finally come senior year, she was his. 

On Saturday, I kept seeing that content smile on both of their faces as I watched them during the wedding. They would sneak looks at each other that just shouted, "He's mine!" and, "She's mine!" and it warmed my heart. Love you two!

Key points from the weekend!

- Laura's little brother, Patrick, is such a born servant. He was always asking me if I needed him to play with Ryan, feed him, anything! 
- Oh, yes, and we cannot forget that Nick's family makes the beeeeeest homemade caramels. I ate so many, and then on the way back I was craving caramel so Chris sweetly got me some Werther's Originals and ... nowhere near as good. So Laura ... first task post-honeymoon is to learn how to make those. Kidding ... kind of. 
- It rained all day long. But, Laura is Laura, which means that she did not care one bit at all. We have had many fun days dancing, singing and now marrying in the rain!
- Their priest was so amazingly reverent and gave an excellent homily. 
- I got to see most of my McGlinn loves, which was too good to be true and way too short, as always. 
- Kat, the bride's sister, best friend and maid of honor, will school anyone in a dance off. 
- My prayers were answered when I went shopping the day we were leaving for NC for some dress clothes for my normally naked boy. I went to my favorite, found one suit in all of their selection that would fit Ryan that was just perfect for the wedding and then also just happened to find just one pair of dress shoes that fit him. God made it easy on me! Aaaand the suit was $8.50 and the mint condition suede shoes were $3.50. 
- More prayers were answered when Ryan slept through most of the wedding. I was definitely nervous that he would call out to me when he saw me standing. Luckily, there was only one faint, "Mama!" the whole time.  Whew. He followed his good behavior with a broken candle at the reception and dirtying his diaper and suit with nary a baby wipe in sight. Thankfully, people were focused on the happy couple. 

Have fun in Turkey, you turkeys! 

Giggling Cheeks and Doors

I don't think I'm going to drive for a long time. After our road trip last week, Chris and I were not exactly the nicest parents and buckled Ryan into another road trip this past weekend. My best friend got married! 

I'll write more about the wondrous occasion later when I have scrounged up enough photos from Facebook & friends. So ... Ashley ... send me yours. 

Isn't Laura radiant? I love her so.

If I'm not going to post about the wedding today, then what story will I be sharing from the weekend? Read on. 

Apparently I don't learn when I read stories from a very good mom. Maybe now you see where this is going. 

We arrived into Charlotte on Friday afternoon so I could partake in some bridesmaid pampering. Our hotel was kindly booked by my brother (thanks, Peter!), and we went there after my nails had been cured of their unsightliness. I had a short bit of time to iron our clothes for the rehearsal dinner so Chris and Ryan took a bath so Ryan wouldn't attempt to conquer Mount Ironing Board like he had already summited every piece of furniture in that room. Boy just isn't content on the floor. 

Fifteen minutes later pruney bath wrinkles had taken the place of the clothing wrinkles so out came the babe. For some reason, I decided to get dressed first even though I normally dress Ryan first and then throw my clothes on in ten seconds or less (training for a mama field day of some sort, I guess). Ryan ran around in all his glory as he is known to do.

I had just taken off my leggings when I heard the door slam shut. Chris was over on the other side of the room getting dressed, but Ryan was not. I should have more adequately assessed the situation and let the underwear-clad Chris run after our fugitive. Instead, I dashed out into the hallway in my maternity shirt and underwear du jour that rhymes with the first word of the phrase, "Wrong choice, Mama." Apologies for the mental image. 

Without thinking (obviously), I sprinted after that giggling boy with two pairs of jiggling cheeks bounding down the hallway. Fortunately, I can out stride him even though he evidently can outsmart me. I snagged his arm. Victory be mine!

Slam! 

Fork. With Ryan's pronunciation. 

I scurried back to the door. Jolly Ryan's dimples were showing and so were mine, but on opposite cheeks. Since I hadn't tucked away a key card in my quick thinking, I banged on the door only to hear laughter on the other side! That husband of mine waited the appropriate amount of time for my curses from embarrassment to turn into good-natured giggles from the hilarity of the scene, and then intelligently opened the door just before those giggles morphed back into curses. 

It turns out that our hotel door locked until the handle was turned from the inside which means that the door is the perfect accomplice for a restless toddler just like Grace's hotel door. Hotel builders must either not be parents, or they sit behind the hotel security cameras every day waiting for a chuckle.  

So be warned, my friends. Doors can quickly turn on you, and your thinking might not be quick enough to save you from the cheeky situations that follow.  

(As you can expect, no photos were taken of the incident. You're welcome).

How We Met: The Benefits of Overreacting

Well, after that very flattering kick in the behind from Grace, I was a leeetle overzealous and wrote an extremely long post that covered only four days. After coming to my senses and realizing that no one except for me would want that much detail, I spent the last few days copy editing that behemoth of an overshare into something a bit more respectable. A bit. So, here we go. 

Part I

After that not-so-smooth (and embarrassing!) smile coverup, I somehow recovered and proceeded to feign normal human emotions by not expressing joy over Chris' break-up. Upon his departure, I whirled around to face Ashley with saucers for eyes and incredulously relayed the news that Chris Harrington had broken up with his girlfriend. I texted Laura and then went to the bathroom because, well I had drank a lot of coffee that day. When I came back, I had already missed a call from Laura. When we finally did manage to connect, I suspect that I was babbling incoherently in shock.

Let me tell you a bit about my best friend, Laura. She is the kindest soul in the world who seriously finds beauty in everything ... even the perma-cloud that hovers over South Bend for the majority of the year.  She is good. I don't mean she is good at something; I mean she is a personification of good. And she is not sneaky and definitely not conniving. So what follows was a complete and utter surprise... and I can't even help her out by blaming liquid courage or runner's high.

Laura bumped into Chris at the dining hall and told him that she was sorry to hear about his break-up and that she had prayed a rosary for them already. That was followed with this statement: "So are you interested in Katrina?" 



Palm to face over here still realizing the forward nature of it all, but eternally grateful because she had just sent the ball that would soon be his old ball and chain rolling (without my knowledge!!). Chris was taken aback, replied no not at all, and told her that he was in no way ready to be interested in anyone else.

But the seed had been planted. He knew that he was graduating in two weeks and then who knew where he would be after that? Once the fact that I liked him had been revealed, he had a limited amount of time to get to know me although he wasn't ready to be in a relationship. I guess he thought I was an okay person.

Laura and I had our normal Monday night shift at Reckers, which I had mentioned to Chris if he wanted to visit after we got off of work. Lo and behold, 10pm came around, and there he was. I don't remember who all was there, but we all sat in the corner across from the smoothie counter. I was venting about how it was going to be a really long night and how I was nervous to write my paper (which was an easy paper...and this is just an example of how nervous I get before I have to write something. I work it all up in my head that it has to be perfect, and nothing is scarier than a blank canvas/paper/word screen. This also happens when I click "New Post" in Blogger. Why I attempt to keep a blog, I do not know). Things left off with Chris mentioning that he was looking forward to watching the Manchester United game on Wednesday with a few of his friends and that I was welcome to watch as well. Cool. Okay, more than cool.

I might have gotten an hour of sleep that night, but don't worry, Mom and Dad, I got an A! I went to my last classes of the year, and then returned home to my dorm room. I sat down at my laptop and there was a message from Chris Harrington! The Manchester United game was today, not tomorrow! I walked (fine, you caught me ... I run-walked) over to Dillon, knocked on room 109, and Chris opened the door. I'll never forget how cute he looked in his blue-green polo that made his eyes just pop. Weak at the knees and everything, but I couldn't even think about him being interested in me. He had told Laura that he wasn't, after all.

Chris' friends all seemed to have only two things to talk about that day: the game and what was an uncomfortable point for me: the rugby formal. Casper (that is his nickname, his parents didn't bestow him with a ghostly name) walked in and started watching the game. At one point, he asked who Chris was taking to the rugby formal. I hoped that Chris didn't see my ears perk up, and I focused on the game I was only vaguely interested in. Attempt #1 to unknowingly embarrass and torture Katrina. A little bit later, Liedl stopped in. Talk, talk talk, "Hey Chris, so who are you taking to the rugby formal? Attempt #2. Both times Chris brushed off the questions. My phone received a text, and I checked it. A friend from my dorm had just texted me, "Hey Katrina, are you going to the rugby formal?" The world was out to make me feel anxious and tortured, and it was succeeding.

I ignored the text and thought I would reply later. The game ended, and his roommate asked if Chris was going to the dining hall. I was so shocked and confused and happy at the same time when Chris turned to me and asked when I wanted to go to the dining hall. He wanted to continue to hang out? He assumed we were going to dinner? I don't think Chris thought any special about it. It was just dinner at the dining hall with other people, but to me ... whoa. I had to pick something up at my dorm so we walked that way first and, of course, ran into the friend who had texted me.

"Katrina, are you going to the rugby formal?" Attempt #3. I tried to not turn beet red and to not hesitate at all so it didn't seem like I was expecting an invite from Chris Harrington. "No, I'm not," I replied and tried to change the subject hoping that Chris had miraculously zoned out for those ten seconds.

The next day seemed to be Chris Harrington day as I saw him multiple times. I was waiting outside the dining hall for Ashley when he walked out carrying a grab-n-go bag. He looked so handsome in his corduroy blazer and ... he gave me a hug when he saw me. My first hug from Chris Harrington!  Then that night for dinner was best friend dinner. Laura and I came up with the not cheesy idea that the two of us should go to Chipotle with Chris and his best friend, Chris. I borrowed Ashley's Rav-4, and we picked up the guys at Main Circle.

Dinner was so fun. Chris paid for Laura and me! A gentleman.

I had to work at 8 so we had to rush back so I could change. Once I was at work, Chris and Chris came to grab Ashley's keys from me because they had forgotten something in the car. I was working with Buddha (a nickname once again) who also was on the rugby team. Buddha was working pizzas which is to the left of the cash register, which is where I was working. The Chris' came back, and started talking to Buddha and me. Buddha loudly asked Chris Harrington, "Hey, who are you taking to the formal?"

Oh. My. Goodness. Attempt #4 in two days to unknowingly embarrass me! I was so mortified I didn't even hear what Chris replied to Buddha.

THEN Chris Harrington came over from the pizza area to the cash register which was about two steps, but seemed longer to me and asked me to go to the rugby formal with him.

Silent squeals all around.

(And I'm still squealing five years later). 

Of course, I said yes, and I'm 75% sure I managed to control the giddy twirling on the inside. Once they left, and it was super slow, I ducked into the bathroom and texted Laura that Chris Harrington had asked me to the formal!

Laura came to start our 10-12 shift, and I highly doubt we talked about anything else but deciphering what this meant. He had just broken up with his girlfriend! He had said he wasn't interested! I was still convinced that he saw us as only friends in the future, but I was now gone. Gone, gone, gone. Our managers offered Laura and I a deal: if we came back and worked from 2am-4am, then we wouldn't have to work any final shifts at all. Cloud Nine offers a whole lot of adrenaline so I was all set to do it. We made this insane plan that Laura and I were going to go to the Grotto as we did every week after our shift ended at midnight, I would go home and change and go to a party with my roommates very quickly and then I would come back and visit Chris in CoMo because he was writing his last paper ever and then we would work from 2-4am.

I would have been extremely annoyed with me if I were my friends. I kept insisting that we were only going to the party for 20 minutes. Cringe. I deeply apologize, roomies!  Luckily for me, the party ended up being awkward and a bust so we maybe stayed for ten minutes. Plenty of time for me to visit Chris for five minutes in CoMo with Laura. I was wearing some weird outfit that I thought was sooo cute...gold heels, yellow shorts and this multi-pastel-colored pajama nightgown that I had belted and thought could pass as a going out top. I have no clue what I was thinking. Laura and I returned to work and were so slap happy after that we were rolling around in the hallway of McGlinn completely sober saying that our beer had the word "root" before it. We are really cool people, as you can tell.

The next day was the rugby formal. My friend and I just happened to be in the dining hall at the same time as the rugby team for dinner. They were all muddy from practice, as usual. They were all sitting in the back of the right-right section, and my friends and I were in the front of the same section. Chris came over to my table to tell me about when he was going to pick me up and ... he asked for my phone number. After the he closed his phone, said bye and left our table, the whole rugby team in the back starting whooping, hollering and whistling.

When I was getting ready, I was nervous about what to wear. It had to be perfect. I remember telling Ashley and Laura that this was different. I didn't want to look hot. I wanted to look beautiful for him. I can't really describe it, but maybe you understand. I quickly tacked up the chest area of a seersucker dress I hadn't worn yet. He came to pick me up, and he happily took a bunch of photos with me (unlike now...ahem, Chris Harrington, hint, hint).

We walked to Main Circle where the rugby guys were waiting to bring those of us without cars to the formal. It was slightly drizzling, and Chris kept offering his suit jacket for me to wear. We got to Main Circle, and the only spot left was in the trunk of Donnie's SUV. I thought it was so fun and "so college", but Chris kept saying things like, "I'm sorry we are riding to the dance in the back of  car with smelly rugby stuff." Like I cared. I was going to a formal with Chris Harrington.

The formal was terribly fun at the legendary Oak Hill apartments that led to a broken beer pong table and all. We danced a bit, and while we were dancing, Chris told me that I looked very pretty.

Now I feel like I need to make it clear that even though Chris had asked me to the formal, I was still uncertain of his feelings, or if he even had any feelings for me at all.  I was the silly girl who was interpreting every move, and every move was contradicting the previous one, or so I made it seem in my head.  Chris had told me when he picked me up that I looked very pretty. It was the best thing to hear, but I thought that I didn't know what that meant.

So when he told me that I looked pretty a second time, I was completely lost in the maze of confusion I had insanely created in my head. I started asking, "What do you mean?" "You said I look pretty?" "What do you mean??"

Side note: Chris always teases me now about how I overreacted over what was merely a polite thing you say to your date...You said I look pretty! We need to talk. Yikes, sane girl over here, folks.

So Chris suggested that we go outside to get some fresh air, but we didn't make it past the stairs because we kept running into people to talk to. Then they did the speeches about the seniors including a stellar one about Chris Harrington. The girl who had texted me if I was going, nudged me and said, "Wow! Look at who you came with!"

Chris and I started dancing again, but not for long. He suggested again that we go outside to talk. That is how I found myself on the deck standing across from Chris Harrington. It is so hard to describe what it looked like to me so bear with me: it was kind of like Serendipity when the man and woman are finally on the ice rink together at the end of the movie. It's night time, the lighting is just right so it seems like both are glowing and they just know. Are you following me? Now switch out the perfectly falling snow and romantic background music for some red Solo cups and sounds of drunken debauchery wafting from inside and you have the scene on the deck. It was perfect, hollers and all.

I hope at least one person followed that Serendipity-college-party mash up. The concept should be coming to theatres soon.

I think Chris could tell that I was nervous and too shy to start saying what we both knew. He started talking, and I felt so alive. I wanted to soak up every detail. He let me know that he wasn't ready for a relationship yet, but he knew that he thought I was too good of a person to not get to know better. (blush. Maybe the whole love is blind thing had already clouded over his relationship vision).  He didn't know where he was going to be after the next year, but he did know that in spite of that, he wanted to get to know me. When he continued with the fact that he liked me, I think my whole body smiled. I didn't care if he saw my ears perk up. Somehow, I was able to pull off some ventriloquy and told him through a permanent and probably scary beam of a smile that I felt the same way. I liked him.

Since you already know that I was tip-toeing on the line of crazy with my gold sandals that night, let me be fully honest and possibly make you think I was already on the crazy side. I knew I was going to marry him. I just knew.  Not only did I feel awakened because of my feelings for him; I truly admired him, crooked nose and all. I was never, ever confident that I would be able to find the right guy. A guy who would be Catholic, want a big family, be okay with waiting, and still make me laugh, brighten my day with just a glance and all of that mushy gushy stuff.  But, there he was: strong in what really mattered, and strong in what didn't. He was strong in his faith and family values and able to make my twitterpated heart sing when we weren't even dating. He was blond, blue-eyed, athletic and could pull off a British accent. 

(I think I'm going to have to really work on explaining how I just knew in order to do it justice, but for now, this will do or else I will never ever click, "publish" and I will forever be stuck as a girl who smiles when people break up).

After we walked back inside hand in hand, I grabbed my phone from the bench near the kitchen and put my wild and crazy premonition into the very official writing of 2008; I texted my little sister, "I found the one." 

Is there a Stereotypical Like-struck Girl Anonymous organization out there? Although I guess the whole blogging about it concept takes away the anonymous aspect ...

The first photo after we talked on the deck. Beaming.

After the formal ended around 3, we ventured back to school and stayed up the whole night walking around campus. Laura and her roommates had invited the rest of the girls in our section to watch the sunrise on South Quad that next morning so Chris and I decided there was no point in going to sleep when we would get up in a couple of hours anyway. We met the girls in the middle of South Quad, and we didn't even care that we couldn't even see the sunrise because of the cloudy sky. All of us went to the dining hall after, and Chris made the best first impression on some of my friends by getting a piece of his omelet stuck in his throat, trying to drink it down with water and then just spewing water + omelet everywhere. Nothing says nice to meet you like letting people see your breakfast. 

Later that afternoon, I was IMing with my brother, and, I don't know, the guilty-little-sister complex got me telling him all about the guy that I liked. This is what I chose to tell him: that he was the captain of the rugby team (hmm...rugby doesn't exactly have the best reputation), he was an Army ROTC dropout (my brother was in his third year at the Naval Academy), he grew up in England, (my brother is quite the patriot), and that he was a senior (we all know what people think when they hear a senior is interested in a freshman). I would say that I did a pretty good job of making him seem like a guy my brother would approve of, wouldn't you? Needless to say, Peter was not happy and might have issued a few typical big brother threats. 

We had seven days left together before we would be forced into long distance communication for who knows how long. His pending graduation really catapulted us into discussing the future and whether it would be our future. During one discussion on a bench near Old College, Chris was skirting around the concept of what my view of us was, and I felt a surge of confidence and blurted out, "If you are asking if I see you as my future husband, then yes." Surprisingly, I didn't scare him away. And even though I saw him as that and knew he was the one, we agreed to continue to get to know each other over the summer before we officially started dating and all that jazz. 

Chris had a lighter finals schedule than I did so once he was finished with his, he offered to help me study. I still have the flashcards that he made for me complete with funny little notes written in the corners. After finals were over, Chris took me on our first date. I asked him what I should wear, he replied, "Smart casual," and then I asked what "smart casual" meant. Newsflash: you don't live in England anymore, Master Harrington.

Smart casual.

The next day was move out day for me. Chris was supposed to come to my dorm room to help me finish packing, and we were going to wait for my dad to come pick me up. I got a phone call from my brother telling me that campus looked really nice that day. Oh shoot. Chris, the kind of English, ROTC dropout, senior rugger was on his way to my dorm and my big brother had surprised me and was there!! Luckily, the meeting went smoothly. 

Rogue bra strap in 3, 2, 1 ...

At the end of the day, Chris gave me a hug (two things here: we were waiting to kiss until we were dating, and Chris was super scared that my dad saw that he accidentally exposed my bra strap while doing so. Scandal) and closed the door after me. I rode away with the playlist on the old iPod Chris had given me playing in my ear sad, happy, hopeful, in like, waiting for that kiss and not knowing how high a phone bill could reach ... but I was about to find out that summer. 

And so I stretched part II from four days to twelve days. I'll try to pack more efficiently in the next and last memory box blog post.