There hasn’t been too much cooking in the kitchen the past 48 hours (Exhibit A: me dipping my spoon into the crockpot of Chicken Tikka Masala I’m serving for my work catering business – more on that later – tomorrow. Exhibit B: DTH gnawing on a cold rosemary grilled lamb chop straight from the fridge) as we prep to fly to the Dominican Republic with family for the next five days and feast on the best the region has to offer. Or, as DTH-GG so eloquently put it this evening, “We’re about to put the Punta in the Cana!”
I had come through a string of serious, long term relationships and was ready for something a little different in the looooove department. I needed danger, risk, excitement and different people. Of course, danger and risk in book is like choosing White Chocolate Mousse instead of Vanilla, but still, there it was. So, I did what any single gal in their early 20s would do… I logged on for a 30 day free trial of Match.com and set about to blog about my misadventures. Both fortunately and disappointingly, I only met normal guys. Went on several dates and set about casually seeing three of them.
Around the same time I began a new job as the live events producer at one of the campuses of my church. The associate campus pastor and his wife were eager to introduce me to “David Arey,” a name I had heard many times in reference to other single, fair maidens on our staff. I was unruffled by any of it because my calendar was full juggling three digital dudes, so when I met David and felt an attraction, I just ignored it and moved on. We spent our Sunday mornings passing each other throughout the campus. Smiling and breezily chatting or saying hello, but nothing more.
Though, knowing the curves my grandmother passed down to me and my magnetic personality and penchant for attracting the fellas, it should have come as no surprise when I was awakened one morning by my phone chirping a text message. It was from him. David (before he become forever Davey the Hubbers). He wanted to know if I wanted to see Anberlin play that weekend with a few friends. I waited the appropriately long enough time of replying to say yes, actually, I would, pretending that I knew who Anberlin was.
The night before the show we met up with a couple for frozen yogurt, and I awkwardly chatted a lot of nonsense and don’t remember much about our time together. The night of the show I was glad to be there but distracted by work emails, text flirtations and the knowledge that I was dog sitting while The Joker was out of town. I kept telling myself I would leave after the next song. But I didn’t. I stayed. And when the show was over, I drove home feeling… nice. But “nice” doesn’t make a relationship, right?
From there we kept up a steady stream of texting and hanging out, and I communicated somewhere along the line that I had no interest in dating my now-husband. I didn’t want to be the newest (and most good looking) meat for him to sink his 12-years-older than me claws into. Nevertheless, we continued our dalliances until I realized that time with DTH was overtaking the date offers from the rest of my stable of cyber suitors. Soon I was calling it off with each of them (well, The Joker called it off with me, but I’m pretty sure he had a learning disability, so whatever). And somewhere along the line I was part of a full-fledged relationship with David.
After that, emotions flew fast and furiously. On a trip to Turks & Caicos about 5 months in we started talking marriage… sort of in the abstract, always after a couple of Painkillers and other tropical treats, and usually in the resort hot tub, but I knew we were both serious. He proposed during a birthday party I was throwing for him, and it took me completely by surprise, but in the nicest way imaginable. After a six month engagement, in April 2012, I floated down the aisle, said sincere and true vows and proudly became Mrs. Davey the Hubbers.
Now, here we are a year later… fighting for counter space, me always washing the wooden utensils hand carved by father-in-law in the dishwasher, him oft forgetting that my running shorts with the built in panties don’t go in the dryer, sharing food ideas and dreams, and so happy we (well, I guess I should only speak for myself) could pop.
OK! So this is my story. My time to write and tell all. I laid eyes on the Gastrique Girl on her first morning at church. She had on this yellow t-shirt from our church, tight jeans and flats (I grew up with 2 older sisters, Yes I know what flats are). I said to the man who would become my best man “Who is that?” “Oh, that’s Caroline,” he said… The weeks went on and Caroline had become civil with me (she tends to be ornery with people who aren’t into her inner circle). She even sent me a nice note on Facebook, That was when I thought….hummm maybe I should give it a try. You see I was on a break from dating. I had been in “the game” for a bit and didn’t want to develop a reputation for being a church player, so I was a little hesitant. As you read, I asked her to the concert. The Girl Was On Her Phone The Whole Night!!!! I mean GLUED to it. Turns out it was all for work! I’ve learned that her job is very demanding and when you’re in the business of saving lives for God…well….His plan is perfect.
So we started dating! She started showing up at my work at nights, at a job that was not a great fit for me, but she would be the highlight of my day. I’d dismiss her so I could close up and then I’d head over to her place and we play Words With Friends, Wii bowling, chat about life etc… Then I’d make the drive home around midnight. I found out that I was in love with her.
The day came. My birthday! She had a party planned for me! I had my own party planned….
But first! I had to ask her dad’s permission. Her dad is a super guy and a humble man, but nonetheless….I had to ask for his permission to marry his daughter. I called him earlier that morning and asked if he could do lunch. Remember I said God’s plan is perfect…well so is His timing. Her dad said he could meet meet me. It turned out that half an hour later he was asked out to lunch by someone else. I met him at a Place called Red Rocks. We had small talk about some mundane stuff, but he knew why I was there. Like I said, he’s a great guy (hi, Mark). He didn’t treat me like I was wasting his time. So I did it. I asked for her hand. The rest of the conversation is private, and I’m pretty sure that’s the same for a lot of husbands out there.
I surprised her at the most opportune moment time I could. (she was singing and pantomiming to a Amy Grant song) I got down on one knee, her mom shrieked through tears “someone get a camera”, hands covered mouths, gasp were heard, I Choked up and cried…
“Will you marry me?”