A boy I know

Until second semester of my freshman year of college, I could say I've never had a boyfriend.* I hadn't even been kissed. Surprising to a lot of people, I was perfectly content with the single life. Some of my friends were vowing to never kiss a guy until they were engaged and I thought: hey, that sounds easy! I've gone 18 years without kissing anyone, what's another 10 or so? Sure, I lived for the couples in Nicholas Sparks movies and had many not-so-PG daydreams about certain members of One Direction, but when it came to actually having a boyfriend? I wasn't interested. I preferred the fun of crushing on guys and spending all night acting out scenarios of us together in my mind. I didn't want to be tied down by having a boyfriend. No way.

But then I met Joel and things changed.

During the second half of our freshman year, we had back-to-back classes together and lived in the same residence hall. The more I saw of him, the more I found myself loving the way he would play with his glasses when he talked to me and how small he looked next to his giant of a best friend. I loved how he knew every German grammar rule without having to look at his notes and that he never wore jeans. I had a crush on him, but that's all it was -- a crush like normal.

Our study sessions stretched longer and longer as we'd often watch movies as a way to spend more time together. Then one night in March, after the credits to Stuart Little had long passed, I told him I liked him. I wasn't expecting him to do more than say he liked me back, so when he asked me to be his girlfriend, I was shocked. You mean there's more than just liking each other and watching movies on the beanbag chair and sharing secret smiles when we pass in the dining hall? You actually want to be in a committed relationship with me where you basically pledge to never be interested in anyone else? Really?

Shoot. I really didn't know how love worked.

I turned him down. Non-single Erika was not someone I knew and I wasn't ready to meet her any time soon. Yet he still made my heart stop when he'd come into class with wet, post-shower hair and I'd find every excuse to be with him. ("Yeah, we have to read Psalm 38 for Religion. I'll see you in three hours, roomie!")

He asked me out again, then again until I finally said yes. I told myself I couldn't live my whole life in  A Walk to Remember fantasies. No matter how scared I was, I had to start somewhere.

Now, seven months into our relationship, I've learned more things about myself than I ever would have thought. I've become less judgmental, more thoughtful, patient, and incredibly grateful. Without him, I'd still be blind to the great things God is doing in our lives. He is incredible and I am blessed by him daily (he doesn't know it, but I see God in him all the time).

Happy seven-month anniversary, J-Slav!


*To anyone who knows me personally and is thinking, "Hey Erika, what about that guy junior year who--" "Don't remind me!" say I. I was able to successfully suppress any thoughts of him and I advise you to forget about him too unless you'd like to see me throw up.