Why I French Kissed Dating Hello!

Had there been an actually museum for all things CRS, we were standing in it. Circa: summer of 1999, camper week one. Me, with no ill intentions at all, getting a drink from the drinking fountain in the Lodge Hallway. He, with possible ulterior motives, getting a drink at the drinking fountain at that EXACT moment. He grabbed my hand, because one of Mark Littlejohn's love languages is physical touch. My heart caught in my throat and my mind sped ahead, "He's touching my hand, oh sweet baby Jesus, his strong, calloused, sailing, and tanned hand is touching my hand!" I was slightly distracted by the whole hand touching thing because I just knew at ANY moment that Rusty was going to turn down the hallway and fire both of us on the spot for "hand touching!" At the time I had a severe case of "rule follower". Rusty didn't appear and we retained our jobs. PHEW!

His sun-kissed self, wanted to know if I wanted to go on a double date with him on Saturday, June 12th, 1999. Um, yes, yes, I wanted to go on a date with him probably more than anything my seventeen year old heart had ever known.

Looking back on our first date together, I see all the things he displayed that night that attracted me to him that still attract me to him today. Mark was a little late showing up to our first date, but he was late for a darn fine reason. He had hand made me flowers. Melt. Mark doesn't want to be like everyone else, not because he is egotistical or arrogant, but because he desires to take a road less traveled that includes thoughtfulness and precision. Hand made flowers, a first. A road less traveled. Fifteen years later, the man insists to lay the brick around our house himself, not because he is egotistical or arrogant, but because he wants to take the road less traveled; thoughtfulness and precision.

After we ate dinner at Oby's in Starkville, we went and played a competitive game of charades. And no, that is not some kinky, new, sexual game, hell raisers are playing these days. It literally was an innocent, fun-filled game of charades. We laughed and embarrassed ourselves as we tried to act out Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles without words. Fifteen years later, we just recently laughed our heads off and embarrassed ourselves whilst presenting "Love Is An Open Door" as a lip sync duet to the camp staff. Mark showed me on our first date, how fun and light hearted he could be even under pressure. Til this day, hands down, I have the most fun and laugh the hardest when my husband is at my side.

On the long drive home from Starkville, Mark gently leaned over in the car and whispered in my ear, "Can I hold your hand?"  Old fashion? Maybe. But what came alive in my soul when I was on the receiving end of the advancements of a true gentleman, still breathes on today in the sacred space of our marriage bed.

June 12th, 1999, was the beginning and the end of a lot of firsts. Unbeknownst to me (although I had a pretty strong inclination) my last "first date" was in the books. What was ahead was not an easy road, but a road that was less traveled; full of thoughtfulness, precision, fun, and gentleness.

There is no one else in this world I would rather sit in a quiet room with.
There is no one else in this world I would rather play "charades" with. *sexual connotation implied*
HEY! We have a license now.
There is no one else in this world I would rather laugh along side of.
There is no one else in this world that pulls out all my fun like you.
There is no one else in this world that has shown me such sweet thoughtfulness and gentleness.
There is no one else I want to walk down this road with, even when it seems bare, old fashioned, out of touch, culturally abnormal, and painfully hard.
I want to walk with you!

Thanks for taking a risk in the CRS museum and asking me out, and not getting us fired. Thanks for being late. Thanks for being thoughtful and precise. Thanks for being fun. Thanks for always being gentle.

I love you!
~Siba