Even after being married for close to 6 months, I still consider myself and Stephen "newlyweds." I am pretty I will consider us newlyweds until we have children. The reason for that could be because we got married so young, or maybe it is because sometimes it still is almost a shock to look down at the ring on my finger. As I look back on the past 6 months, I am amazed how much I have grown as a person, but I am also very aware of all the growth that is still to come. I am not going to pretend to be an expert on marriage, but I do want to share a little bit of what some people may not tell you about marriage.
This may not be the case for everybody, in fact I wouldn't be surprised if my situation was somewhat strange to many people. Before I was married, I had never lived on my own before. I didn't worry about paying for rent, groceries, utilities, insurance, etc. The most I had to pay for was gas money. I lived in a nice house with my parents and brother. Everything I was earning from my job was going into spending money for whatever I wanted. (I realize that makes me seem like a COMPLETE spoiled brat, hopefully most people know me well enough to know that I didn't let that get to my head too much.)
As you can imagine, moving out of the house where I had grown up- to a small apartment it a different city was a bit of a shock. Suddenly my money wasn't just my money anymore; My money was now rent, gas, utilities, groceries, phone bills, laundrymat money, and insurance. My money became our money.
I had never shared a bed with a man before. If I toss and turn and fidget during the night, I was no longer the only person to lose sleep. (Although, Stephen is a narcoleptic so it doesn't phase him as much as I feared.) I had been told by quite a few people that I snore pretty loud during the night, (my nephew told me on a scale of 1-10, I was a 9. He wanted to say 10 but he didn't want to be rude.) but I had never been in the position that someone woke me up to have me turn on my side to make the snoring stop.
Everyone has disgusting habits that they try to hide from the world, but when you and another person are living in a small, 1 bedroom apartment, those habits are impossible to hide anymore.
Every decision you make now affects another person.
You have to start picking your battles.
You have twice the laundry and dishes to do.
The past 6 months have been the most stressful, crazy, hard, painful, confusingly wonderful, fantastic, educational, loving, and all around amazing 6 months of my life so far.
People may not tell you that you will want to steal a moment for yourself only to find that once you are alone, you miss the person that was driving you crazy.
People may not tell you that sometimes you will want to throw in the towel or that you'll need to walk away from a fight to clear your head.
People may not tell you that you will fight over little things you never thought you would fight over.
People may not tell you that you suddenly have an entire other family to consider during the holiday seasons. He has spend every holiday with his family up until that point and you have spend every holiday with yours.
People may not tell you all the small things about marriage that end up being the hardest; but people may also not tell you all the little things about marriage that end up being the best.
People may not tell you how wonderful it is to wake up to the person you love every morning.
People may not tell you how nice it is to have someone there for you when you get home after a long day at work.
People may not tell you that a hug from that special someone will seem to be the only thing that will keep you sane in the hectic world we live in.
People may not tell you how special you will feel when the person you love kisses your forehead when you are sick.
People may not tell you that their favorite color has become the color of their loved one's eyes.
People may not tell you a lot of things about marriage. Maybe they will. I have learned and grown so much over the past 6 months and I am so excited to see what the future has in store for The Petersens!
Tuesday, December 2, 2014
Wednesday, October 1, 2014
An Anticlimactic Adventure, But An Adventure Nonetheless!
When I say "I witnessed a robbery." People assume that it was some intense stand off with a gun pointed at the cashier. Allow me lower your expectations right here. If you have expectations about an epic tale of greed, tension, and bravery, you will be extremely disappointed. It was an anticlimactic adventure, but it was an adventure nonetheless!
It was a Tuesday; The work day had completely drained me. I was ready to just go home and relax for the night.
After work, I drove up to the University campus to pick Stephen up from his last class of the day. As I waited for him, I made a mental note to stop by the store one the way home for some feminine hygiene products; "Auntie Flow" had made an unexpected visit and I was running low on necessities.
Once I saw Stephen approaching the car, I got out of the drivers seat, greeted him with a kiss, gave him the keys, and plopped into the passenger's seat. The mental note I had just made was immediately archived as Stephen and I talked about our days.
We arrived back at our apartment at quarter to eight. I slumped down on the couch and watched Netflix while Stephen worked out. (Perfect representation of our personalities, right there.) The archived mental note I had make while waiting for Stephen suddenly came into my head.
"Honey, we need to go to the store." I announced.
"Uh... can you go by yourself?" Stephen replied.
I made a pouty face.
"I'm a big girl! I can do stuff by myself, I just don't want to."
Stephen laughed and agreed to come with me.
By the time we got in the car is was 9:45. We decided just to go to the Walgreen's down the street.
When we entered the store, I went straight to the feminine hygiene aisle. Stephen suddenly realized why I needed a late night grocery run. I grabbed what I needed and went to checkout.
There was a single register open. The cashier was a young, timid, dark haired girl. The man in front of us was trying to dictate which pack of cigarettes he wanted.
"It's looks like that one," he pointed behind her.
"...but it is that color." He pointed to another pack.
"But it is that brand!" He directed again.
The young cashier seemed flustered as she tried to figure out what he wanted.
I stood there, awkwardly holding the large box of tampons. Stephen was flipping through magazines.
Finally the man decided on which brand he wanted. It was a large carton of cigarettes. The cashier rang up the total.
"Oh, I don't think I have enough." He said. He picked up the cigarettes and walked out the door.
I assumed he was going to get more money from his car, it didn't register to me that he would just walk out without paying; Especially with witnesses and cameras that saw him.
The cashier ran after him. By this time there were 3 other parties in line waiting for checkout.
A few minutes passed. We all were just waiting, twiddling our thumbs, wondering what happened. Suddenly we heard the sobbing cashier come back into the store.
"We were robbed!" She cried; mascara streaming down her face.
"We we've just been robbed and he tried to hurt me."
The man that was working at the photo center in the store ran to her. He walked her to the employee lounge where she called the police.
"Did anyone see what happened?" The man asked when he came back out.
"I saw what happened in here, but not anything that happened outside." I answered.
"Would you mind waiting here until the police come and filling out a witness statement?"
"No problem." I said, still a little stunned at the situation.
I glanced over at the cash register. I noticed for the first time that the robber's total was over $500. He had everything from beer to crayons rung up and he only took cigarettes.
10 minutes after the robbery, the man at the cash register finally got everyone checked out. The police arrived and went to talk to the young employee.
After another 10 minutes, the male employee working the cash register seemed to suddenly realize what I had purchased.
"Oh!" He exclaimed
"You probably want to get home." He said as he looked at what in the plastic bag.
"Here," He printed out a long, blank receipt.
"...Write down your statement on here and your phone number. If the police have any other questions they can call you."
I wrote it all down. I wrote down what he looked like. Stephen also wrote down what he remembered. By the time I finally had my statement written down, the police came out to talk to us.
At the end of it all, what had been a simple tampon run turned into a 45 minute ordeal. I don't know what happened outside the store, I don't know if he had a gun, a knife, or just his fists; I just know I'm glad I wasn't the one to run after him. I also know that I hope this was a once in a lifetime experience.
Monday, August 4, 2014
Level Up
I remember the day I told Stephen I could see myself wanting to be by his side for eternity. It was a warm evening in the middle of October, we had been dating for just under two months. We were snuggling on a couch in his basement watching "Serenity" on his laptop; He had his arm around me, my head on his shoulder, our legs propped up on a chair with a pillow on it for comfort. The movie was far from romantic, we were not kissing or gazing into each other's eyes, I just had this peaceful feeling and I remember thinking "I wouldn't mind having this forever."
I wanted to tell Stephen what was on my mind, but I couldn't get the words out; For some shocking reason, I was nervous to tell him that I was starting to think I could love him forever. We had said "I love you" a few weeks before, so I knew there was somewhat of a mutual feeling, but saying "I think I could love you forever" was a big jump in just a few weeks. My heart wanted to leap out of my throat. I had to tell him, I just didn't know how.
After nearly an hour of internal battle, I took the cowards way out and pulled out my phone. I text him. He was sitting right next to me and I text him the words "I could see us doing this for a long time. Like forever."
Not the most romantic words or way of saying it, but it was sent. I couldn't go back.
I studied Stephen's face as he read the text. He went from amused that I had text him instead of speaking to a "deer in the headlights" look.
He cleared his throat. I braced myself for an awkward rejection followed by him asking me to leave him alone. I expected him to tell me it was over.
"I love you, Emma." He said.
"I love you too. I'm sorry, that was totally lame of me! I shouldn't have texted it, maybe I should have just kept it to myself. I'm so-"
Stephen interrupted my outpour of apologies with a kiss.
"I love you." He said again "I just don't know if it is forever yet. Is that ok?"
I smiled at him and said, "That is perfectly ok."
We finished the movie, kissed goodnight, and I went home.
I took comfort in the fact that even though I had been completely childish about the whole situation, Stephen acted very mature. I didn't feel humiliated like I thought I would and I was not going home in tears. We had eventually handled everything like adults and all was well. Or so I thought.
The next time I saw Stephen was almost a week after I dropped the "M-card."
I drove the 30 minutes to his house, expecting everything to be fine. Little did I know he had talked to his friends who had the opinion that "a girl who drops the 'M-card' within two months of dating is way too attached and borderline creepy." They suggested to Stephen that he take a break from me and date around some more.
Lucky for me, Stephen was not interested in dating other people and took into account that all of his friends were single and had been for a while.
We had the same conversation that we had the week before, only this time, it was awkward.
I left humiliated and angry that his friends would give that kind of advice. I wasn't in a relationship with them. They don't know the whole situation. Why should they tell Stephen to kick me to the curb? Then I realized that they were in the mentality of marriage being "Game Over."
Obviously, everything eventually worked out for me and Stephen. Our mentality about marriage was mutual; We both wanted to be married.
The night before our wedding, I stopped by our apartment to get a few things. Stephen was there with two of his friends. The friends were glum and went silent the moment I entered the room. I grabbed what I needed and left. Later I asked Stephen what they had been talking about that made them so quiet when I came in.
"They were comparing weddings to funerals." Stephen answered. "They kept saying 'We're never going to see you again.' Basically they see tomorrow as the day they lose their best friend."
I have never felt my blood boil faster than in that moment.
I have never seen marriage as "Game Over." Perhaps it is because I am a female and ever since I was little I dreamed about my wedding day. I don't imagine little boys do the same, but I had never heard of anyone going so far as to compare a wedding to a funeral.
Marriage is not about what you lose, it is about what you gain. Natasha Craig wrote a phenomenal blog post: "What I Gave Up The Day I Got Married." http://www.confessionsofateenagebride.com/2014/02/10-things-i-lost-by-getting-married.html#.U9_zXPldXi0
I completely agree with that post.
Speaking for myself, the day I got married was not "Game Over." June 19, 2014 was the day I "Leveled Up."
I wanted to tell Stephen what was on my mind, but I couldn't get the words out; For some shocking reason, I was nervous to tell him that I was starting to think I could love him forever. We had said "I love you" a few weeks before, so I knew there was somewhat of a mutual feeling, but saying "I think I could love you forever" was a big jump in just a few weeks. My heart wanted to leap out of my throat. I had to tell him, I just didn't know how.
After nearly an hour of internal battle, I took the cowards way out and pulled out my phone. I text him. He was sitting right next to me and I text him the words "I could see us doing this for a long time. Like forever."
Not the most romantic words or way of saying it, but it was sent. I couldn't go back.
I studied Stephen's face as he read the text. He went from amused that I had text him instead of speaking to a "deer in the headlights" look.
He cleared his throat. I braced myself for an awkward rejection followed by him asking me to leave him alone. I expected him to tell me it was over.
"I love you, Emma." He said.
"I love you too. I'm sorry, that was totally lame of me! I shouldn't have texted it, maybe I should have just kept it to myself. I'm so-"
Stephen interrupted my outpour of apologies with a kiss.
"I love you." He said again "I just don't know if it is forever yet. Is that ok?"
I smiled at him and said, "That is perfectly ok."
We finished the movie, kissed goodnight, and I went home.
I took comfort in the fact that even though I had been completely childish about the whole situation, Stephen acted very mature. I didn't feel humiliated like I thought I would and I was not going home in tears. We had eventually handled everything like adults and all was well. Or so I thought.
The next time I saw Stephen was almost a week after I dropped the "M-card."
I drove the 30 minutes to his house, expecting everything to be fine. Little did I know he had talked to his friends who had the opinion that "a girl who drops the 'M-card' within two months of dating is way too attached and borderline creepy." They suggested to Stephen that he take a break from me and date around some more.
Lucky for me, Stephen was not interested in dating other people and took into account that all of his friends were single and had been for a while.
We had the same conversation that we had the week before, only this time, it was awkward.
I left humiliated and angry that his friends would give that kind of advice. I wasn't in a relationship with them. They don't know the whole situation. Why should they tell Stephen to kick me to the curb? Then I realized that they were in the mentality of marriage being "Game Over."
Obviously, everything eventually worked out for me and Stephen. Our mentality about marriage was mutual; We both wanted to be married.
The night before our wedding, I stopped by our apartment to get a few things. Stephen was there with two of his friends. The friends were glum and went silent the moment I entered the room. I grabbed what I needed and left. Later I asked Stephen what they had been talking about that made them so quiet when I came in.
"They were comparing weddings to funerals." Stephen answered. "They kept saying 'We're never going to see you again.' Basically they see tomorrow as the day they lose their best friend."
I have never felt my blood boil faster than in that moment.
I have never seen marriage as "Game Over." Perhaps it is because I am a female and ever since I was little I dreamed about my wedding day. I don't imagine little boys do the same, but I had never heard of anyone going so far as to compare a wedding to a funeral.
Marriage is not about what you lose, it is about what you gain. Natasha Craig wrote a phenomenal blog post: "What I Gave Up The Day I Got Married." http://www.confessionsofateenagebride.com/2014/02/10-things-i-lost-by-getting-married.html#.U9_zXPldXi0
I completely agree with that post.
Speaking for myself, the day I got married was not "Game Over." June 19, 2014 was the day I "Leveled Up."
Monday, July 28, 2014
The Reality of Mortality
I was reminded of the chilling reality of mortality on a dreary Monday morning in late July. Mortality is a curious phenomenon. It fascinates me that something so imperative is so easily forgotten. In the business of life, we disregard the reality of its fragility until we are face to face with it. Life is powerful, wonderful, and indescribable, but most of all, life is very, very fragile.
The morning started out as most mornings do: Stephen's alarm going off, him getting up almost immediately, and my refusal to get out of bed until absolutely necessary. I am not a morning person. I despise the sound of alarm clocks and how rudely they rip me from the serenity of sleep. (Naturally I have the 7:00AM shift. I chose that shift so I could spend more time with Stephen. Love does crazy things to us.)
This morning was harder than usual to convince myself to leave the comfort of the soft, warm sheets. The anticipation of an overdue meeting with my manager had kept me from any sort of rest the night before. My sleep deprived eyes defiantly protested before opening to the reality of morning. I rolled to my knees and prayed for the strength to get through the day.
I slipped on some jeans and the first clean shirt I could find, brushed my teeth, and while I was pulling my hair into a tight ponytail, I kissed Stephen "goodbye" and hurried out the door. I walked down the stairs from our second floor apartment and sleepily stumbled to my car. I knew in order to stay awake I would need some upbeat music, so I plugged in my iPod and shuffled my morning playlist.
Driving down State Street, I saw the familiar sight of red and blue lights flashing in the distance ahead of me. I figured it was someone who was running late to work that had been pulled over. As I got closed I saw the police car was in the middle of the road facing south. As I was heading north, I made sure no one was behind me, and I slowed down to see what had happened. I saw a slightly dented car, broken glass, the remains of a totaled motorcycle and a man laying seemingly lifeless a few yards from the wreckage.
The accident must have just happened because there was no ambulance yet. There was no blood, but I knew there was no way someone could get away from that scene without being hurt. I saw the motorcyclist's body. He was wearing a helmet and a full riding suit. I didn't know if he was alive or dead, but I knew that his body must have been badly broken and this suit was keeping everything together. The policeman, a few pedestrians, and a woman in hysterics (I assume she was the driver of the car) crouched around the man in a semicircle but no one touched him.
The meeting I had been worrying about all weekend completely left my mind. I was suddenly very awake as I continued to drive past the wreckage.
I don't know if the man survived or not, but I knew whatever the outcome, all who witnessed the scene would be faced with the reality of our mortality.
As a society, we choose not to think or speak of death unless the situation demands. Everyone has differing opinions of what death entails. Some people fear death, others think of it as a new beginning, and there are some who chose to not believe in death. I believe we were born with a greater purpose than to have death be the end. I don't know when my last day on earth will be, I believe I will live to see many more adventures before then, but when eventually death does come to greet me, I imagine I will echo the words of J.M. Barrie's character Peter Pan:"To die would be an awfully big adventure."
The morning started out as most mornings do: Stephen's alarm going off, him getting up almost immediately, and my refusal to get out of bed until absolutely necessary. I am not a morning person. I despise the sound of alarm clocks and how rudely they rip me from the serenity of sleep. (Naturally I have the 7:00AM shift. I chose that shift so I could spend more time with Stephen. Love does crazy things to us.)
This morning was harder than usual to convince myself to leave the comfort of the soft, warm sheets. The anticipation of an overdue meeting with my manager had kept me from any sort of rest the night before. My sleep deprived eyes defiantly protested before opening to the reality of morning. I rolled to my knees and prayed for the strength to get through the day.
I slipped on some jeans and the first clean shirt I could find, brushed my teeth, and while I was pulling my hair into a tight ponytail, I kissed Stephen "goodbye" and hurried out the door. I walked down the stairs from our second floor apartment and sleepily stumbled to my car. I knew in order to stay awake I would need some upbeat music, so I plugged in my iPod and shuffled my morning playlist.
Driving down State Street, I saw the familiar sight of red and blue lights flashing in the distance ahead of me. I figured it was someone who was running late to work that had been pulled over. As I got closed I saw the police car was in the middle of the road facing south. As I was heading north, I made sure no one was behind me, and I slowed down to see what had happened. I saw a slightly dented car, broken glass, the remains of a totaled motorcycle and a man laying seemingly lifeless a few yards from the wreckage.
The accident must have just happened because there was no ambulance yet. There was no blood, but I knew there was no way someone could get away from that scene without being hurt. I saw the motorcyclist's body. He was wearing a helmet and a full riding suit. I didn't know if he was alive or dead, but I knew that his body must have been badly broken and this suit was keeping everything together. The policeman, a few pedestrians, and a woman in hysterics (I assume she was the driver of the car) crouched around the man in a semicircle but no one touched him.
The meeting I had been worrying about all weekend completely left my mind. I was suddenly very awake as I continued to drive past the wreckage.
I don't know if the man survived or not, but I knew whatever the outcome, all who witnessed the scene would be faced with the reality of our mortality.
Friday, July 18, 2014
Hurry Up and Wait... What??
Being young is usually associated with being healthy; or at least not having too many health problems. I am an exception. I've had ovarian cysts, ulcers, dizzy spells, and a few weeks after Stephen and I were married, I started having blackout spells.
Every few nights I would be laying next to my husband and suddenly everything would freeze. I couldn't hear anything, see anything, say anything, or feel anything. Just darkness. According to Stephen, I would black out for 30 seconds or more at a time, 4-5 times each night I had the episodes. He would shake me and yell my name with no response from me.
Wednesday night, I had accompanied Stephen to Home Depot. We were looking for something to help him fix his bike when I suddenly felt VERY sick. The room was spinning and I felt that I needed to throw up. I had Stephen take me home and as soon as I opened the door, I ran to the bathroom and threw up everything my stomach could offer up. Exhausted, I crawled into bed and fell asleep.
Being on a different insurance than I had been on for my whole life, I was nervous to go to a different doctor. I assured Stephen that I was fine and that is was just all the stress of moving and the other big changes that come with getting married. For weeks I dismissed the dizzy spells, nausea, backaches, headaches, and blackout spells. When I got a Urinary Tract Infection and started vomiting along with everything else, I decided it was time to see a doctor.
Thursday morning, I threw up the water I had sipped after brushing my teeth. I couldn't go into work. I slept for a while and once I woke up, I looked up what doctors my new insurance covered. I saw that a previous doctor I had seen was covered. I called to make an appointment with her, only to find out that her soonest open appointment was in 3 weeks. I knew I shouldn't wait that long and explained my symptoms to the person on the phone. She set up an appointment for that evening and asked if she could have a nurse call me later to talk about my symptoms. I consented and verified my phone number.
The nurse called about an hour after I set up the appointment to talk to me about my symptoms. After describing them to the nurse and answering a few questions, the nurse told me that I should go to the Emergency Room. Right away I called Stephen and told him that he needed to get home, NOW! He was in North Salt Lake for work and could not be home for a while, even if he left right then, so I called my Mom to take me.
By the time my mom came and we got the the ER, Stephen's boss had dropped him off and he was waiting for us at the entrance. I went in, told the attendant my symptoms and let her know that I was instructed by a nurse at a clinic to go to the ER right away. They took my information, gave me my patient's bracelet, and showed me, Stephen, and my Mom to the waiting room.
They don't call it a waiting room for nothing. We waited. And waited. About an hour after I had started waiting, three woman (who had all arrived separately around 45 minutes after I did) decided to form a gossip and complaint circle. They sat and loudly complained about the wait. They would call a nurse over and ask her why the wait was so long and if they could get put at the top of the list of people who were set to be called in.
I was severely annoyed. I wanted to yell over to them "Do we need to have you go back to preschool and learn how to wait your turn?? We are ALL waiting here, I have been here longer than you have and you don't see me asking for special treatment!"
The unofficial slogan of the ER is "Hurry Up and Wait."
After two and a half hours in the waiting room, I was placed in a room and told to get into a robe. Thirty minutes after that, the doctor came in to ask me about my symptoms. I told her about the vomiting, dizziness, backaches, headaches, and blackout spells. I also told her that I knew I had a urinary tract infection and if I could get antibiotics prescribed that would be great. I mentioned that I had some slight pain in my chest, but it was nothing I was too concerned about.
The doctor ordered a urine test, blood tests, an EKG, and a chest x-ray.
I came in for blackout spells, dizziness, and headaches and the doctor did not order anything that had to do with checking my head.
After all the tests, the nurse noticed I was dehydrated (because they would never have guessed that from the fact that I told them I hadn't been able to keep anything down for close to 24 hours.) The nurse hooked up a liter of fluid to my IV and told me it should feel cold, but not painful. Suddenly my arm was freezing and in immense pain. I sobbed. The nurse took a look at my arm and determined that the IV was infiltrated and that the fluid was going into my tissue rather than my veins. She stopped the IV, switched it to my other arm, and resumed hydrating my body.
After 8 hours of waiting, tests, pain, sleepless shut eye, and wondering what was going on, the doctor finally came in.
"We have found that you have a UTI, that is a urinary tract infection. We will give you a prescription for some antibiotics for that. Otherwise, everything seems normal so you are good to go."
"What about the blackout spells." Stephen asked
"Oh, we can't find a reason for them, I would suggest going to a primary care doctor." The doctor answered.
I got dressed, grabbed the prescription and Stephen and I left.
A primary care doctor told me to go to the ER. The ER doctor told me to go to a primary care doctor. I don't know if I want to go to any doctors for a long time now.
I waited for 8 hours for a doctor to tell me something I already knew and say there was nothing she could do about what I came in for. My slogan for the hospital I went to is "Hurry up and wait... what did you say?"
Every few nights I would be laying next to my husband and suddenly everything would freeze. I couldn't hear anything, see anything, say anything, or feel anything. Just darkness. According to Stephen, I would black out for 30 seconds or more at a time, 4-5 times each night I had the episodes. He would shake me and yell my name with no response from me.
Wednesday night, I had accompanied Stephen to Home Depot. We were looking for something to help him fix his bike when I suddenly felt VERY sick. The room was spinning and I felt that I needed to throw up. I had Stephen take me home and as soon as I opened the door, I ran to the bathroom and threw up everything my stomach could offer up. Exhausted, I crawled into bed and fell asleep.
Being on a different insurance than I had been on for my whole life, I was nervous to go to a different doctor. I assured Stephen that I was fine and that is was just all the stress of moving and the other big changes that come with getting married. For weeks I dismissed the dizzy spells, nausea, backaches, headaches, and blackout spells. When I got a Urinary Tract Infection and started vomiting along with everything else, I decided it was time to see a doctor.
Thursday morning, I threw up the water I had sipped after brushing my teeth. I couldn't go into work. I slept for a while and once I woke up, I looked up what doctors my new insurance covered. I saw that a previous doctor I had seen was covered. I called to make an appointment with her, only to find out that her soonest open appointment was in 3 weeks. I knew I shouldn't wait that long and explained my symptoms to the person on the phone. She set up an appointment for that evening and asked if she could have a nurse call me later to talk about my symptoms. I consented and verified my phone number.
The nurse called about an hour after I set up the appointment to talk to me about my symptoms. After describing them to the nurse and answering a few questions, the nurse told me that I should go to the Emergency Room. Right away I called Stephen and told him that he needed to get home, NOW! He was in North Salt Lake for work and could not be home for a while, even if he left right then, so I called my Mom to take me.
By the time my mom came and we got the the ER, Stephen's boss had dropped him off and he was waiting for us at the entrance. I went in, told the attendant my symptoms and let her know that I was instructed by a nurse at a clinic to go to the ER right away. They took my information, gave me my patient's bracelet, and showed me, Stephen, and my Mom to the waiting room.
They don't call it a waiting room for nothing. We waited. And waited. About an hour after I had started waiting, three woman (who had all arrived separately around 45 minutes after I did) decided to form a gossip and complaint circle. They sat and loudly complained about the wait. They would call a nurse over and ask her why the wait was so long and if they could get put at the top of the list of people who were set to be called in.
I was severely annoyed. I wanted to yell over to them "Do we need to have you go back to preschool and learn how to wait your turn?? We are ALL waiting here, I have been here longer than you have and you don't see me asking for special treatment!"
The unofficial slogan of the ER is "Hurry Up and Wait."
After two and a half hours in the waiting room, I was placed in a room and told to get into a robe. Thirty minutes after that, the doctor came in to ask me about my symptoms. I told her about the vomiting, dizziness, backaches, headaches, and blackout spells. I also told her that I knew I had a urinary tract infection and if I could get antibiotics prescribed that would be great. I mentioned that I had some slight pain in my chest, but it was nothing I was too concerned about.
The doctor ordered a urine test, blood tests, an EKG, and a chest x-ray.
I came in for blackout spells, dizziness, and headaches and the doctor did not order anything that had to do with checking my head.
After all the tests, the nurse noticed I was dehydrated (because they would never have guessed that from the fact that I told them I hadn't been able to keep anything down for close to 24 hours.) The nurse hooked up a liter of fluid to my IV and told me it should feel cold, but not painful. Suddenly my arm was freezing and in immense pain. I sobbed. The nurse took a look at my arm and determined that the IV was infiltrated and that the fluid was going into my tissue rather than my veins. She stopped the IV, switched it to my other arm, and resumed hydrating my body.
After 8 hours of waiting, tests, pain, sleepless shut eye, and wondering what was going on, the doctor finally came in.
"We have found that you have a UTI, that is a urinary tract infection. We will give you a prescription for some antibiotics for that. Otherwise, everything seems normal so you are good to go."
"What about the blackout spells." Stephen asked
"Oh, we can't find a reason for them, I would suggest going to a primary care doctor." The doctor answered.
I got dressed, grabbed the prescription and Stephen and I left.
A primary care doctor told me to go to the ER. The ER doctor told me to go to a primary care doctor. I don't know if I want to go to any doctors for a long time now.
I waited for 8 hours for a doctor to tell me something I already knew and say there was nothing she could do about what I came in for. My slogan for the hospital I went to is "Hurry up and wait... what did you say?"
Tuesday, July 15, 2014
The Epic Saga of The Couple In My Math Class
Two years ago, I sat in a college math class behind an overly affectionate couple. Their interactions lead me to start an epic saga of Facebook posts. I have decided to transfer all of those posts so you can see them all together. Here it is. THE EPIC SAGA OF THE COUPLE IN MY MATH CLASS:
There I was. My first semester of college. My first college class. For some stupid reason I took an early morning math class. On top of that my teacher was from Russia. A russian math teacher at 8:00AM.... could this class get any more hard to understand?! Never question if things could get worse... Life loves to prove that they can!
August 27, 2012
- "That awkward moment when you are sitting in class and the couple in front of you starts making out.... I thought we here in math, not chemistry"
September 4, 2012
- "Dear couple in my math class,
Look, I realize you are used to being required to go to class but this is college, the teacher really doesn't care if you are there or not. You are adults, its your choice to come to class or not. However, it is also your choice to pay attention or not. I think you are getting really confused because last week you thought we were in chemistry and now you think we are in human bio. Leg hair is a natural thing, happens to everyone, rubbing his leg because it has hair on it does not constitute as a math equation. Try this one You- Razor= Hairy legs that you can rub WITHOUT disrupting the learning of others. This is getting ridiculous. Listen or leave!"
September 6, 2012
- "Dear couple in my math class,
EVERY. SINGLE. TIME!!! This is WAY past ridiculous"
September 10, 2012
- "Dear couple in my math class,
I didn't notice you as much today... That could be because i was focusing on the total BABE in front of me.... Wait.... I mean.... Math... I was totally focused on the math... The story problem was about a baby... And the book was in front of me... Yeah... That's what I meant."
September 18, 2012
- "Dear couple in my math class,
I'm so glad you have the kind of relationship that you can openly discuss her menstrual cycle, but this is neither the time NOR the place!"
September 24, 2012
- "Dear couple in my math class, all I heard was 'I need to be touched...' and frankly I don't want to know. I appreciate you being quiet but next time, keep the ENTIRE conversation quiet..."
September 27, 2012
- "Dear couple in my math class,
Exploring possible pet names for each other at 8:30 in the morning.... In math class...? Really?"
October 2, 2012
- "Dear couple in my math class. While learning about the trial and check method today, I overheard you mention something about trials when you get home... For the sake of my sanity and the innocence I once thought math held, I'm going to assume you meant you are going to watch Law & Order at home."
October 8, 2012
- "Dear couple in my math class,
Your affectionate nature has become like a disease... It is spreading. Now the other male and female on your row have decided to flirt loudly and seemingly uncontrollably! What manner of plague is this?!? Will everyone end up coupling up and I be left to sit alone awkwardly saying "I love my dog." I dislike you very much..."
October 15, 2012
- "Dear couple in my math class,
We didn't even have class today and you still manage to be in my status? I thought I could escape you! But no!! Now you and the disease you call love is haunting my dreams...."
October 16, 2012
- "Dear couple in my math class.... I got stuck in the elevator with you.... How? now I'm really feeling forever alone"
- "Dear couple in my math class,
Normally I wouldn't post two in one day but your stupidity seems to have left me no choice. May a suggest NOT kissing while driving? Dude, I don't know why you thought her turning the radio up was a turn on but you almost hit another car... Pay attention!"
November 7, 2012
- Dear couple in my math class, You are discussing baby names now? Joseph Tanner is a nice name and all but it's 8:00 in the morning....
November 28, 2012
- "Couple in my math class: 'why can't the teacher draw a straight line?' 'I dunno, I'm just glad you are my straight line!' *kiss*
..... I would hope you both are straight! Otherwise the other is in for a rude awakening!! Seriously guys... 8:00 in the morning..."
And that was the last I saw of them. For almost 2 years, I did not see the couple from my math class again... until:
July 11, 2014
- "Dear couple in my math class,
Long time no see! Heading to work at same time as we would have headed to math class last year. Not much else has changed for you, I see. Still trying to lock lips while in a moving vehicle. Awesome. Next time, try playing tonsil hockey at a stoplight instead the freeway.
Sincerely, WHERE DOES IT END WITH YOU PEOPLE!!"
So, there you have it. The epic saga of the couple in my math class. Will the saga continue? Who knows!!
Once I Stopped Trying To Find It, True Love Found Me.
Ever since I was little, I dreamed of being wanted. I wanted someone to look at me the way my Dad looks at my Mom. Watching old family movies where my Dad would be operating the camera, my Mom would come into view and my Dad would zoom in until she was the only person you could see. My parent don't call each other pet names. They are not overly affectionate. Their love story is not the kind you read about in storybooks; Yet I wanted (and still do want) a love like theirs.
Like most little girls, growing up I had plenty of crushes. I would be completely twiterpated with a boy one day and the next week I would have completely forgotten about him and moved onto the next cutie. Reading my childhood diary, I counted the names of 21 boys that I claimed to love during my Elementary School career. In Junior High, I started to "mature" a bit and I only claimed to love 4 or 5 boys. The summer before my Sophomore year in Highschool, I was introduced to a boy that would become my first boyfriend.
His name was Justice. He was tall, had big hands that I loved to hold, and was 17 years old. He liked to listen to me, and he would look at me in a way I had been looked at. He seemed perfect for me. He was kind of shy while I was outspoken. He was LDS. He liked me. He wanted me. I thought I had found the love of my life at 15 years old. I did not realize how quickly I could become emotionally attached to someone.
When I told my Mom I gave him my first kiss, she gasped in shock. I wasn't even supposed to be dating until I was 16. My parents were less than pleased with my choice in a boyfriend, as well as my young age. Despite their cautions, I was sure I had found my future husband. The longer I dated Justice, the more fights I had with my parents and friends. Everyone around me could see that I was in love with the idea of being wanted by someone, but I couldn't see that he was not what I truly wanted.
I chose to ignore the fact that despite dating him for close to a year, we had never been on a real date. My first date was actually with a boy who would eventually become one of my best friends. Justice never bought me flowers. He took me one date in our entire relationship. I started to realize that I was becoming more like his mother than a girlfriend. I did not want to admit that I was wrong about finding my true love. I "dated" Justice from August 2009 until January 2011. It took me a year and a half to realize that true love was more than just being wanted.
Throughout the rest of High School, my friends and family saw me make the same mistake over and over again. I would meet a boy, fall head over heels for him and becoming very emotionally attached only to have my heart shattered when my sentiments were not returned, or at least not quite as emphatically.
In my first year of college, I had not met anyone new. Wanting to feel wanted again as I once did with Justice, I decided to go on a dating site to find someone to love. That website is where I met Sam. He was 22 years old and getting ready to go on a belated LDS mission. We chatted online almost everyday. We had planned to meet up before he left for his mission but everything fell through. He left in January 2013 for Alaska. I didn't have the guts to write him until March. After my initial letter, we were constant pen pals.
I told my friends about him. I read the letter to and from him to my parents. I wrote to my brother who was also serving an LDS mission about him. I told them all that he was someone I could see myself marrying. I would rush to the mailbox everyday, knowing it was impossible but still hoping somehow that his reply to my letters would be there the day after I sent mine. Everyone could see that I was happy. I was excited about what the future. I was sure that I had found my special someone this time.
One day is early July, I got my letter from Sam and opened it excitedly. I ran downstairs to sit on the couch near the computer so I could tell my recently returned brother, Ben, what Sam had said this time. I was expecting Sam him to tell me how wonderful the mission was and tell me that he missed me. He started the letter out just as any other. I laughed at a joke he had made. My brother looked up from the computer and smiled at how happy I seemed. Then the letter changed. I read the words "I think you have become too attached to me. I think you should take a step back. Don't write me anymore. I am worried that you are more invested in this than I am willing to be. I'm sorry. This is the last letter you will get from me."
I was crushed. I gripped the arm of the couch and sobbed. Ben whipped his head around at the sudden change in my mood. He came over to see what was wrong. I couldn't speak. I just handed Ben the letter and pointed. I wrote Sam a final letter apologizing for seeming over eager and told him that if he ever changed his mind, he knew my address so he could write me. For weeks I watched the mailbox for another letter.
I had, again, been wrong about finding my true love. I decided it was time to stop taking love so seriously and just have fun with it. Just go on dates. I had heard about an app called Tinder. Many of my friends had gone on it and told me of the little one time dates they went on with people they met on Tinder. I decided to try it out, mostly as a joke.
Tinder is more shallow than a dating site. It is your profile picture, your age, your basic location, and an optional line about you. You would swipe right if you liked the picture and swipe left if you didn't. If you swiped right to someone and they swiped right to you, then the two would be a match and you could then talk.
I had been on Tinder for about a week. I had a few matches and I talked to some of them. Nothing was sticking, but I was having fun talking to people and making friends. I came across a picture of a boy named Stephen.
I thought he was kind of cute and I swiped right. Immediately I had been alerted that he was a match. I messaged him a greeting. We chatted for a few days then he said "Well, we could chat online forever or we could meet in person."
I was pleasantly surprised that he made the first move. I accepted the invitation to meet him. He planned a date. He told me to wear jeans, shoes that could get dirty, and work gloves. He gave no other details about the date, just asked where he could pick me up. I gave him my home address.
On the second day of my new job, I told my co-workers all about the mystery date with the boy I had never met. We made guesses about what I would be doing on the date. Horseback riding? A service project? I would just have to wait and see what Stephen has planned for me.
After work, I got ready for the date. Unsure of what I was going to be doing, I used minimal make-up and tied my short hair into a stubby ponytail.
I heard my Mom yell from upstairs "Emma, are you expecting someone?"
I answered "You know I am!"
I ran upstairs waited at the door for the sound of the doorbell.
When I opened the door, I was slightly confused. The person standing in front of me did not look like the person I had planned the date with. The person in front of me had stunning blue eyes, thick blonde hair, and his posture seemed much better than in the picture.
"Stephen?" I asked.
"Hey, you must be Emma." he answered with a smile.
"Yes, that is me." I giggled and pushed him out the door adding "Shall we go?!"
"Uhm... sure?" He answered, surprised at my haste.
We were half way to his car when I heard the front door swing open and my Mom yell "WAIT! WAIT! Don't I get to meet him?"
My face turned bright red as I turned around and slowly walked back to my Mom. I whispered an apology to Stephen, who just laughed in response. After he officially met my Mom, we left for our date.
In the car I asked him what we would be doing. He told me about the hike we would be doing and then we would go out for ice cream. A hike. That seemed doable and from what I could gather, the hike seemed fun. As we drove, his phone rang. The Doctor Who theme song erupted from his phone and the thought popped into my head from the fangirl section of my brain "Oh. My. Gosh! I think I am in love!" Trying to not get too attached to this one on our first date, I just told myself I loved Doctor Who, (which is a very true statement) not the man who had its theme song as his ringtone.
We made small talk as we tried to get the first date jitters out of our systems. As we pulled into a parking lot and got out, he began to walk toward an incredibly steep hill-ish looking mountain with a rope dangling on it. We continued to walk closer and I studied Stephen's face to see if this was just a prank and the real hike we would be doing was somewhere else. He seemed completely serious.
We reached the rope and I looked up at the steep "hike" we were about to attempt. He started first and I followed. A quarter of the way up, I stopped, out of breathe and admitted "I don't know how much farther I can make it...."
Stephen turned and said "I think you can do it! Come on, it will be so cool up at the top."
In my head I responded with "You don't even know me! I am not this physically fit! I feel like I might die and we aren't even half way!"
Fearing I would ruin the date by being a wimp, I continued to climb. When we reached the halfway mark, I sat down and sighed "I'm sorry, I can't go any further. I have to think about getting down... alive." Stephen sat down beside me and assured me that it was ok. He pulled out two bottles of Gatorade and we look over the Salt Lake Valley and talked.
We hiked down, went for ice cream and he drove me home. I forgot he was not familiar with where I lived so he missed the exit twice. Once we finally got back to my house, I thanked him and told him I would like to go on another date with him sometime. "Sure, next time, you plan it." He answered. I got out of his car, went into my house, and straight to my parents room to tell them all about the date.
"So, did you like it? Was it fun?" My Mom asked.
"I had fun, I mean I didn't do the whole hike, but I had fun. I like him. I think he is really cute, but I don't think he is interested in going on another date with me."
I logged onto Facebook as part of my nightly ritual. A friend request caught my eye. I clicked on it at saw that Stephen had added me as a friend. I smiled and tried to suppress the butterflies as I began a healthy session of Facebook stalking. Looking through his pictures, I saw that he was a very talented photographer. I pulled out my phone to text him and tell him I was impressed and thank him again for the date.
He responded quickly, thanking me for the compliment and asking me if I had ever been to the Utah Museum of Fine Art. Surprisingly, even though I had lived in Utah my whole life I had never been to that museum. He asked if I would want to go with him. I don't think I had ever responded faster to a text than when I said "Yes!" to seeing Stephen again.
A few days later I was at a church function with my family. My friend, Brie, pulled me aside and asked how my first date with Stephen had gone. I kept smiling as I told her the story. She told me that there was going to be a young single adult dance after the activities that evening and suggested I invite Stephen to come. I was excited to let Stephen know I wanted to see him, but for some reason I was sure the he would decline my invitation. To my surprise, Stephen accepted and an hour later he was up at my house.
We walked together over to where the YSA dance was supposed to be. As we walked toward the music, we saw that the young single adults, were really young single teens and preteens.
My turn to give a date with an unexpected twist.
We stood there awkwardly at the door, Stephen whispered to me with a joking tone "I feel like it is borderline illegal for me to be here." He was 21. I sheepishly asked if he would like to go do something else or if he would rather just go home.
To my relief he asked what there was to do around my neighborhood and we decided to go bowling. After a few games, we were getting along well enough that we wanted to continue the date. We got into his jeep and took a drive up Millcreek Canyon. We drove and talked for more than an hour. Once we had gone all the way up the canyon and back, we wanted to keep talking. The sun was setting, I told Stephen about a park that had a path that we could walk around continue our conversation.
We walked around the park, I would purposefully brush my hand against his to hint at him to hold it. After looping around around the park twice and my hand still not held, I decided that maybe he just did not want to hold my hand.
I asked him if he wanted star gaze before going home. We lay in the grass, our hands inching closer. Soon our hands were touching though he still would not interlock his fingers with mine. Finally I did it. I grabbed his hand. I assumed he was fine with it, he did not flinch.
We lay, hand in hand, looking at the stars. Earlier we had heard a group of troublemakers wandering around the park and they seemed to be getting closer. We did our best to ignore them until one boy broke from the group, ran up to us, and lay down beside us.
"Hey, how are you guys doing?" He asked
"Oh just dandy, ya know, just stargazing." I answered, trying to make light of the situation.
"Awesome, what star are you looking at?"
"Uhm... all of them?" Stephen joked.
"What is your favorite star?" I asked the stranger.
"Jupiter."
As we lay in the grass and chatted with the stranger, I jokingly asked if he would like to hold my other hand. The boy grabbed it.
I had not expected him to actually hold my hand, but he didn't seem like a creepy guy so I just brushed it off and the three of us lay there, hand in hand. The boy called his friends to join us and suddenly there were seven people laying, hand in hand, in the grass, watching the stars. We all started to introduce ourselves.
Names were thrown out in the dark and we could not place names to faces. Stephen introduced himself and said "This is my date, Emma."
Suddenly, the boy holding my other hand said "Wait... Emma Cundick?"
"Yes....?" I answered in slight disbelief.
"It's me! Michael!"
The boy was someone I had gone to school with from Elementary to High School. We all laughed at the coincidence and briefly told each other about what had changed since we graduated.
The seven of us lay there for a few more minutes then Michael and his friends thanked us for humoring them and they left. We had sat up to wave goodbye and when we lay back down, Stephen grabbed my hand and held it. My heart fluttered.
We did not stay long after that. We got up, walked to his car, our fingers intertwined, and he took me home. As he pulled up to my house, I thanked him for the fun date and he thanked me for inviting him. I got out of the car, walked into my house and before I could tell my parents what a great time I had, my phone buzzed telling me there was a text.
I opened the text and saw Stephen had said "I really had a great time. Thank you! Goodnight Beautiful"
I burst into my parents room, singing "He likes me! He likes me! He likes me!" I told them every detail about the date. My hands held my face and I would break at random moments to say "He is so cute!"
My parent don't call each other pet names. They are not overly affectionate. Their love story is not the kind you read about in storybooks; Yet, all my life I wanted to be wanted in the way that my Dad wanted my Mom.
Stephen and I held hands on our second date and we have been holding hands ever since. On February 9, 2014, seven months after our first date, Stephen asked me to be his wife. On June 19, 2014 I gave myself to Stephen for time and all eternity in the Salt Lake Temple.
 |
| My parents |
Like most little girls, growing up I had plenty of crushes. I would be completely twiterpated with a boy one day and the next week I would have completely forgotten about him and moved onto the next cutie. Reading my childhood diary, I counted the names of 21 boys that I claimed to love during my Elementary School career. In Junior High, I started to "mature" a bit and I only claimed to love 4 or 5 boys. The summer before my Sophomore year in Highschool, I was introduced to a boy that would become my first boyfriend.
His name was Justice. He was tall, had big hands that I loved to hold, and was 17 years old. He liked to listen to me, and he would look at me in a way I had been looked at. He seemed perfect for me. He was kind of shy while I was outspoken. He was LDS. He liked me. He wanted me. I thought I had found the love of my life at 15 years old. I did not realize how quickly I could become emotionally attached to someone.
When I told my Mom I gave him my first kiss, she gasped in shock. I wasn't even supposed to be dating until I was 16. My parents were less than pleased with my choice in a boyfriend, as well as my young age. Despite their cautions, I was sure I had found my future husband. The longer I dated Justice, the more fights I had with my parents and friends. Everyone around me could see that I was in love with the idea of being wanted by someone, but I couldn't see that he was not what I truly wanted.
I chose to ignore the fact that despite dating him for close to a year, we had never been on a real date. My first date was actually with a boy who would eventually become one of my best friends. Justice never bought me flowers. He took me one date in our entire relationship. I started to realize that I was becoming more like his mother than a girlfriend. I did not want to admit that I was wrong about finding my true love. I "dated" Justice from August 2009 until January 2011. It took me a year and a half to realize that true love was more than just being wanted.
Throughout the rest of High School, my friends and family saw me make the same mistake over and over again. I would meet a boy, fall head over heels for him and becoming very emotionally attached only to have my heart shattered when my sentiments were not returned, or at least not quite as emphatically.
In my first year of college, I had not met anyone new. Wanting to feel wanted again as I once did with Justice, I decided to go on a dating site to find someone to love. That website is where I met Sam. He was 22 years old and getting ready to go on a belated LDS mission. We chatted online almost everyday. We had planned to meet up before he left for his mission but everything fell through. He left in January 2013 for Alaska. I didn't have the guts to write him until March. After my initial letter, we were constant pen pals.
I told my friends about him. I read the letter to and from him to my parents. I wrote to my brother who was also serving an LDS mission about him. I told them all that he was someone I could see myself marrying. I would rush to the mailbox everyday, knowing it was impossible but still hoping somehow that his reply to my letters would be there the day after I sent mine. Everyone could see that I was happy. I was excited about what the future. I was sure that I had found my special someone this time.
One day is early July, I got my letter from Sam and opened it excitedly. I ran downstairs to sit on the couch near the computer so I could tell my recently returned brother, Ben, what Sam had said this time. I was expecting Sam him to tell me how wonderful the mission was and tell me that he missed me. He started the letter out just as any other. I laughed at a joke he had made. My brother looked up from the computer and smiled at how happy I seemed. Then the letter changed. I read the words "I think you have become too attached to me. I think you should take a step back. Don't write me anymore. I am worried that you are more invested in this than I am willing to be. I'm sorry. This is the last letter you will get from me."
I was crushed. I gripped the arm of the couch and sobbed. Ben whipped his head around at the sudden change in my mood. He came over to see what was wrong. I couldn't speak. I just handed Ben the letter and pointed. I wrote Sam a final letter apologizing for seeming over eager and told him that if he ever changed his mind, he knew my address so he could write me. For weeks I watched the mailbox for another letter.
I had, again, been wrong about finding my true love. I decided it was time to stop taking love so seriously and just have fun with it. Just go on dates. I had heard about an app called Tinder. Many of my friends had gone on it and told me of the little one time dates they went on with people they met on Tinder. I decided to try it out, mostly as a joke.
Tinder is more shallow than a dating site. It is your profile picture, your age, your basic location, and an optional line about you. You would swipe right if you liked the picture and swipe left if you didn't. If you swiped right to someone and they swiped right to you, then the two would be a match and you could then talk.
 |
| My Tinder Picture |
 |
| Stephen's Tinder Picture |
I was pleasantly surprised that he made the first move. I accepted the invitation to meet him. He planned a date. He told me to wear jeans, shoes that could get dirty, and work gloves. He gave no other details about the date, just asked where he could pick me up. I gave him my home address.
On the second day of my new job, I told my co-workers all about the mystery date with the boy I had never met. We made guesses about what I would be doing on the date. Horseback riding? A service project? I would just have to wait and see what Stephen has planned for me.
After work, I got ready for the date. Unsure of what I was going to be doing, I used minimal make-up and tied my short hair into a stubby ponytail.
I heard my Mom yell from upstairs "Emma, are you expecting someone?"
I answered "You know I am!"
I ran upstairs waited at the door for the sound of the doorbell.
When I opened the door, I was slightly confused. The person standing in front of me did not look like the person I had planned the date with. The person in front of me had stunning blue eyes, thick blonde hair, and his posture seemed much better than in the picture.
"Stephen?" I asked.
"Hey, you must be Emma." he answered with a smile.
"Yes, that is me." I giggled and pushed him out the door adding "Shall we go?!"
"Uhm... sure?" He answered, surprised at my haste.
We were half way to his car when I heard the front door swing open and my Mom yell "WAIT! WAIT! Don't I get to meet him?"
My face turned bright red as I turned around and slowly walked back to my Mom. I whispered an apology to Stephen, who just laughed in response. After he officially met my Mom, we left for our date.
In the car I asked him what we would be doing. He told me about the hike we would be doing and then we would go out for ice cream. A hike. That seemed doable and from what I could gather, the hike seemed fun. As we drove, his phone rang. The Doctor Who theme song erupted from his phone and the thought popped into my head from the fangirl section of my brain "Oh. My. Gosh! I think I am in love!" Trying to not get too attached to this one on our first date, I just told myself I loved Doctor Who, (which is a very true statement) not the man who had its theme song as his ringtone.
We made small talk as we tried to get the first date jitters out of our systems. As we pulled into a parking lot and got out, he began to walk toward an incredibly steep hill-ish looking mountain with a rope dangling on it. We continued to walk closer and I studied Stephen's face to see if this was just a prank and the real hike we would be doing was somewhere else. He seemed completely serious.
We reached the rope and I looked up at the steep "hike" we were about to attempt. He started first and I followed. A quarter of the way up, I stopped, out of breathe and admitted "I don't know how much farther I can make it...."
Stephen turned and said "I think you can do it! Come on, it will be so cool up at the top."
In my head I responded with "You don't even know me! I am not this physically fit! I feel like I might die and we aren't even half way!"
Fearing I would ruin the date by being a wimp, I continued to climb. When we reached the halfway mark, I sat down and sighed "I'm sorry, I can't go any further. I have to think about getting down... alive." Stephen sat down beside me and assured me that it was ok. He pulled out two bottles of Gatorade and we look over the Salt Lake Valley and talked.
We hiked down, went for ice cream and he drove me home. I forgot he was not familiar with where I lived so he missed the exit twice. Once we finally got back to my house, I thanked him and told him I would like to go on another date with him sometime. "Sure, next time, you plan it." He answered. I got out of his car, went into my house, and straight to my parents room to tell them all about the date.
"So, did you like it? Was it fun?" My Mom asked.
"I had fun, I mean I didn't do the whole hike, but I had fun. I like him. I think he is really cute, but I don't think he is interested in going on another date with me."
I logged onto Facebook as part of my nightly ritual. A friend request caught my eye. I clicked on it at saw that Stephen had added me as a friend. I smiled and tried to suppress the butterflies as I began a healthy session of Facebook stalking. Looking through his pictures, I saw that he was a very talented photographer. I pulled out my phone to text him and tell him I was impressed and thank him again for the date.
He responded quickly, thanking me for the compliment and asking me if I had ever been to the Utah Museum of Fine Art. Surprisingly, even though I had lived in Utah my whole life I had never been to that museum. He asked if I would want to go with him. I don't think I had ever responded faster to a text than when I said "Yes!" to seeing Stephen again.
A few days later I was at a church function with my family. My friend, Brie, pulled me aside and asked how my first date with Stephen had gone. I kept smiling as I told her the story. She told me that there was going to be a young single adult dance after the activities that evening and suggested I invite Stephen to come. I was excited to let Stephen know I wanted to see him, but for some reason I was sure the he would decline my invitation. To my surprise, Stephen accepted and an hour later he was up at my house.
We walked together over to where the YSA dance was supposed to be. As we walked toward the music, we saw that the young single adults, were really young single teens and preteens.
My turn to give a date with an unexpected twist.
We stood there awkwardly at the door, Stephen whispered to me with a joking tone "I feel like it is borderline illegal for me to be here." He was 21. I sheepishly asked if he would like to go do something else or if he would rather just go home.
To my relief he asked what there was to do around my neighborhood and we decided to go bowling. After a few games, we were getting along well enough that we wanted to continue the date. We got into his jeep and took a drive up Millcreek Canyon. We drove and talked for more than an hour. Once we had gone all the way up the canyon and back, we wanted to keep talking. The sun was setting, I told Stephen about a park that had a path that we could walk around continue our conversation.
We walked around the park, I would purposefully brush my hand against his to hint at him to hold it. After looping around around the park twice and my hand still not held, I decided that maybe he just did not want to hold my hand.
I asked him if he wanted star gaze before going home. We lay in the grass, our hands inching closer. Soon our hands were touching though he still would not interlock his fingers with mine. Finally I did it. I grabbed his hand. I assumed he was fine with it, he did not flinch.
We lay, hand in hand, looking at the stars. Earlier we had heard a group of troublemakers wandering around the park and they seemed to be getting closer. We did our best to ignore them until one boy broke from the group, ran up to us, and lay down beside us.
"Hey, how are you guys doing?" He asked
"Oh just dandy, ya know, just stargazing." I answered, trying to make light of the situation.
"Awesome, what star are you looking at?"
"Uhm... all of them?" Stephen joked.
"What is your favorite star?" I asked the stranger.
"Jupiter."
As we lay in the grass and chatted with the stranger, I jokingly asked if he would like to hold my other hand. The boy grabbed it.
I had not expected him to actually hold my hand, but he didn't seem like a creepy guy so I just brushed it off and the three of us lay there, hand in hand. The boy called his friends to join us and suddenly there were seven people laying, hand in hand, in the grass, watching the stars. We all started to introduce ourselves.
Names were thrown out in the dark and we could not place names to faces. Stephen introduced himself and said "This is my date, Emma."
Suddenly, the boy holding my other hand said "Wait... Emma Cundick?"
"Yes....?" I answered in slight disbelief.
"It's me! Michael!"
The boy was someone I had gone to school with from Elementary to High School. We all laughed at the coincidence and briefly told each other about what had changed since we graduated.
The seven of us lay there for a few more minutes then Michael and his friends thanked us for humoring them and they left. We had sat up to wave goodbye and when we lay back down, Stephen grabbed my hand and held it. My heart fluttered.
We did not stay long after that. We got up, walked to his car, our fingers intertwined, and he took me home. As he pulled up to my house, I thanked him for the fun date and he thanked me for inviting him. I got out of the car, walked into my house and before I could tell my parents what a great time I had, my phone buzzed telling me there was a text.
I opened the text and saw Stephen had said "I really had a great time. Thank you! Goodnight Beautiful"
I burst into my parents room, singing "He likes me! He likes me! He likes me!" I told them every detail about the date. My hands held my face and I would break at random moments to say "He is so cute!"
My parent don't call each other pet names. They are not overly affectionate. Their love story is not the kind you read about in storybooks; Yet, all my life I wanted to be wanted in the way that my Dad wanted my Mom.
Stephen and I held hands on our second date and we have been holding hands ever since. On February 9, 2014, seven months after our first date, Stephen asked me to be his wife. On June 19, 2014 I gave myself to Stephen for time and all eternity in the Salt Lake Temple.
Stephen and I affectionately call each other pet names. We constantly hold hands and if you ask my Mom, we kiss at every opportunity. Our love story is not the kind that you read about in storybooks, but I found someone that looks as me the way my Dad looks at my Mom, and I couldn't ask for better than that.
Ever since I was little, I dreamed of being wanted. It took me many failed attempts at relationships to realize that love is much more that just being wanted. Love is not about finding the person you want to spend forever with at 15 years old. It is not about feeling alone and wanting someone to hold you. Once I stopped trying to find it, true love found me.
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