Monday, September 14, 2009

Girl Makes Move, Boy Makes Bigger Move

Again, you may have already read this post on our wedding website. New stuff to come in the next one. ~Em

Well. This is Jonny, here to give my own version of things. I am not going to bother further illuminating the twelve years that lead up to Emily's and my relationship, because she covered it pretty sufficiently. Besides, for a full account of an arrest and multiple near arrests, streaking, and perilously low GPA's, you may speak to me yourself.

When Emily moved to town after school, our mutual gravitation was immediate and irresistible.

I'll pick up a couple of days before the point where we looked at each other and said "oh."

After another session of watching the Simpson's, trying to ignore a veritable storm of sexual tension, something big happened. We hopped in my jeep to head out to a friend's house in Lexington for a movie...and she reached over and grabbed my hand. I am not joking. Emily actually had to say, "Woah, watch out." It's amazing what a big deal the holding of hands is. We had touched hands many times, intentionally, and even sensually. But all of those times we could write it off as something we were just doing in the privacy of our homes because it felt nice, something in the vein of a back scratch or shoulder massage. But out under the watching eye of the sun, it felt official. Nay, it WAS official. This was an intentional statement. It was handholding with intent to romanticize. (Of the first degree.)

Later after movie night, out in the yard I beseeched my brethren (specifically Corman and Lee J.) with a dilemma:

"I think Emily and I may actually date."

"Really? Wow. She is really cool."

"I know, but it's crazy. I mean could this actually work?"

"Well I think so, you guys definitely get along."

"Yeah, it's frightening. When I look at her, I see someone who I could really be with, I mean I don't see any reason why I wouldn't want it to work out...Hey, is she watching us out of the window?"

"Yeah, she may be...if she comes out here, just pretend we're talking about the all-star game."


"So has something specific happened between you and Emily that-AND THE THING ABOUT THE ALL-STAR GAME IS, THERE REALLY SHOULD BE MORE RED-SOX PLAYERS."

"Ok, she went back inside. Yeah, anyway, we just held hands on the way up here. I mean, I just about ran off the-YEAH, THE THING ABOUT THE ALL-STAR GAME IS THAT IT HAS PLAYERS IN IT...BASEBALL PLAYERS! THEY PLAY BASEBALL! OH, HI EMILY! I mean...Hi Emily."

Jump ahead two or three days and we are together once again basking in the glow of Springfield and her wayward citizens. It is late, the mood is ripe, and there is no more skirting the issue, no more ignoring the elephant in the room (his name clearly would have been "Stampy.") I looked at Emily, she looked back, and I moved in. The first kiss. It was short, and quick. The ice was cracked, but long from broken.

I ask, "Should we do this?" And I am fully expecting my responsible and not particularly spontaneous friend Emily to say something along the lines of, "No, we probably shouldn't." But that isn't what she said. She simply looked back at me and said, "Yes." Let me repeat all of that.

1. I kiss my friend of twelve years.

2. I ask if we should do this.

3. She just says "Yes." Not "maybe", not "what do you think?" Just "Yes."

CRACK! SPLASH! FIIIZZZZ. The ice not only is obliterated. The sun comes out, melts every bit of ice within miles, the polar bears all drown and California sinks into the sea. It is on. The makeout session that ensues practically makes up for every kiss we had missed out on in the last 12 years due to our annoyingly pious restraint and selfish regard for friendship.

And that my friends is how it began. How it ends is another matter, but since that story will involve one or both of our deaths, let us not dwell on it here or now. Huzzah! And on with the celebration!

1 comment:

Keeping Up With the Joneses said...

Wow! I really, really, really like this rendition too! This is fun. Hope for more to come;can't seem to get enough.
Your mother-in-law