It’s official: Jamie and I have been an old, married couple for NINE years!
In keeping with tradition, I’ll share my courtship story with Jamie. Y’see, my beloved James and I were BYU students at the same time, graduated from the same department, walked through the same graduation ceremonies and regularly played volleyball together on the same court one summer…and yet never met.
It took a glorious thing called the Internet to finally bring us together many years later. I was in the midst of terminating an on-again, off-again five-year long-distance relationship and was cruising a popular Mormon singles site, adding unsuspecting prey to my Little Black Book.
Jamie had also ended a relationship a few months prior and was looking for some nice local Mormon girls to date. I, however, was not local. (Or nice for that matter; really, my only qualifier was I was Mormon). He was in Denver, I in Salt Lake City. I had just endured a long-distance romance and vowed I would never do that again. That avowal lasted about a week. He, too had no interest in something long distance.
Despite the odds, I came across his profile. It was not his dashing good looks that initially struck me (his photo was taken on an Alaskan glacier five miles away) or his poetry and prose (i.e. “I like eating good food”) but rather the strong impression that I needed to write him. Immediately.
Our connection was immediate. Jamie first knew it was love when I expounded upon mountaineering and the definition of the horned sacrificial altar in Ancient Israel (yep, we’re two of a kind). I knew Jamie was The One when he googled my name and read every single article I had ever written. Either that or he was a stalker. Fortunately, he proved to be the former.
After countless e-mails and phone calls over the next two months, we planned to meet. By this time, it had been revealed to both of us in a very powerful way that we would get married. Imagine, if you will, how you’d feel opening the door to a person you’d never laid eyes on, yet knowing he was The One. Suffice it to say, the week prior to our meeting, I was a wreck.
Another confirmation I received was when The Family Curse came upon me. Y’see, when both of my brothers met their spouses, something unfortunate always happened. For Patrick, he “accidentally” passed gas when he was introduced to Jane. For Jeek, he had developed a horrible boil smack in the middle of his nose when he met Shannon. For me, I developed an allergic reaction to some flowers at work, which resulted in a stye in my eye. Y’know. The really pink, pussy, ugly kind. This was yet another sign.
And so despite my pussy, makeup-less state when I finally laid eyes on him (albeit one good eye), I knew then what I know now: that we were meant to be together. And despite all my Murphyisms and idiosyncrasies, he still loves me. And keeps loving me. I don’t understand or question it, I’m just grateful for it.
Happy Anniversary, Honey!
(To read all the sordid details of our wedding day, go here).
I'm a Canadian-born mom of two, former Denver Post columnist, family travel writer, editor of MileHighMamas.com and 9News contributor. Expert on all things Utah, Denver, family and travel. Lover of laughter and life. Happily married to a man obsessed with growing The Great Pumpkin. 