#AtoZChallenge: ‘Y’ is for “You’ve Got Mail”

This is the last repeat post for the A to Z Challenge, which is good since we only have one day left.  This post was originally posted in October of last year.

For our date night a while back, my husband and I ordered take-out and watched You’ve Got Mail. This was no Netflix and chill, though. Instead, we kicked it old school and watched the DVD I’ve had since I was in high school.

My grandmother was a fan of romantic comedies, so I watched a lot of those since I lived with her. She was a Meg Ryan super fan (until The Affair with Russell Crowe, sigh), and I became one too after watching You’ve Got Mail. As a teen who had recently gotten an Internet connection, I thought it was the most romantic thing ever. A smart guy! Who enjoys books! And can write! Such a guy didn’t exist in my class of 70-odd students (that I was aware of), so that movie gave my love life a little hope.

You know how couples have a song? It might be the first song they ever danced to together or the one they danced to at their wedding. This movie is our equivalent of that. (Well, technically we have a Song, too, and it’s not a Hanson song since my husband put his foot down.)

We went the same route as the characters, meeting online, taking forever to meet, and when we did it was amazeballs (well, it was amazeballs a couple months after we met, when my nervousness wore off and I didn’t treat him like a brother). Our story isn’t quite as interesting, and consists only of a few missed hints and involuntarily dodged kisses — no business war and all that — but otherwise IT’S EXACTLY THE SAME.

We were getting sappy and stuff while watching the movie, reciting lines here and there, like it was of Star Wars or Shakespeare importance, when it dawned on me that there was something about me that my husband didn’t know about me. Once you’ve been married to someone for 10 years, finding something new to share from one’s past is pretty major. It’s almost on the level of giving diamonds. Almost.

“Oh my god, that haircut!” I commented. “I loved that haircut when I was in high school. I had it for the better part of two years. But it never worked out for me.”

This is it, in case you haven’t watched You’ve Got Mail or just don’t remember:

Alternatively, you can look at the haircut here, if the doodle isn’t doing it for you.

Between my lack of being able to blow my wavy (but not curly, dammit) hair straight, it not being the right haircut for my face, and the crappy stylist whose cuts rarely resembled the picture given, the haircut didn’t work for me. It didn’t work the first time I was a sophomore in high school, or the second time adding blonde highlights, or even the 89th time, when I was a senior in high school, and I’d highlighted my hair so much that it was nearly straight up blonde. (This is when I realized I should just let it grow out and go back to my natural color.)

The idea of having Meg Ryan’s haircut was amusing to my husband.

“She wasn’t in her 40s at the time,” I said, defending my style choice for god knows what reason. “Probably like her 30s. Or mid-30s.”

“That’s really not better. You were 15!” he exclaimed.

“Almost 16, though. And it was a cute haircut! Just not on me. Which may be why I didn’t date more in high school.”

“Aw, I’m sure it wasn’t that bad,” he said. “Just pretty bad.”

(And if you think admitting you wanted the haircut of an older woman was bad, try admitting that you had a crush on Tom Hanks when you were 15…or 33, for that matter. Sigh.)

I didn’t show him my picture in the yearbook from that haircut — the one where I was wearing a plain white t-shirt for, again, god knows what reason. Add in being sweaty as hell because it was early September in SC, plus that haircut, and you’ve got loads of awfulness.

See? All the awfulness.

My sharing the haircut story pretty much ruined You’ve Got Mail from a romantic standpoint. The idea of wanting to look like a middle age woman in my teens kind of overshadows the whole “how we met” thing. That opens the door for making a Hanson song Our Song, though, so there’s that.

Have you ever aspired to look much older than you actually were, or otherwise have any interesting Bad Haircut stories to share?

Thanks for joining me for the April A to Z Challenge! If you’re participating, please leave a link in the comments section so I can check out your post.

Want to connect on social media? You can find me on Facebook, Twitter, and Bloglovin.

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#AtoZChallenge: ‘W’ is for Why I Never Wanna Go On A First Date Again

Like yesterday’s post, today’s Blast to the Past post takes place when I was in college — back to my first date with my husband.

I’ve mentioned before that I met my husband online. This was back in 2004, before online dating was really a thing like it is now. Those were the days of “Anyone looking to date online is a serial killer,” and based on one of the guys I met who had a white van that he wanted me to check out, I’d say that belief wasn’t completely unwarranted.

It took a while for us to get together. I was 19 and he was 25 when we first started talking, and we were both kind of put off by the age difference. In the eyes of a 19-year-old, he was old. (What I wouldn’t give to be old in that way again.) In the eyes of a guy in his mid twenties, I was really young. Regardless, after several months of chatting, we eventually went out (after I turned 20). There were a lot of missed signals on my part, but we finally made plans for that first date.

That date didn’t get off to the best start, since my husband briefly thought that I was catfishing him.

That’s my grandma. I was still getting ready (because putting on a college sweatshirt and jeans takes time), so she answered the door. He was slightly horrified at first, thinking that she was his date (even though he knew I lived with her, his mind still went there). She told me that she knew he thought she was his date, which she thought was hilarious, so she didn’t tell him otherwise and asked how he was doing. I popped around the corner shortly thereafter and he realized he wasn’t going on a date with a woman in her 70s.

The ride to the movie theater was pretty quiet. Despite chatting online during every free minute for months, we suddenly ran out of things to say. We finally got to the movie theater and purchased our tickets. This is what we saw:

Yes, for our first date ever, we chose to go see a movie about Jesus getting beaten and crucified. I don’t know what the heck we were thinking at the time. For crying out loud, I had already seen it and knew how hard it was to watch, and I still went along with it.

That horrified face is not what you want to see on the first date. I was able to keep a straight face and not be obviously bothered by it since I knew what to expect, but not so much with my husband.

Yeah, that happened. He told me some time later that he thought about trying to hold my hand, but then thought maybe that wasn’t the best movie for that. It’s a good thing, because that would have made an already uncomfortable date even more so.

Bonus dating awkwardness:

For whatever reason, I got it in my head that we weren’t dating so much as hanging out as friends. When he eventually tried to kiss me, this happened:

Zoom in and check out those awesome lips.

Yep, I totally turned my head. Oh, the embarrassment. My grandmother thought it was the funniest thing ever, though. And she thought it was doubly funny when it happened again after the next date. Luckily, after those first few awkward weeks, we were able to get our shit together, and the rest is history.

Thanks for joining me for the April A to Z Challenge! If you’re participating, please leave a link in the comments section so I can check out your post. If you have any awkward dating stories, feel free to share them!

Want to connect on social media? You can find me on Facebook, Twitter, and Bloglovin.

#AtoZChallenge: ‘V’ is for Valentine’s Day

Yes, we’re more than two months past Valentine’s Day, but I’m going to go with ‘V’ is for Valentine’s Day anyway.

Today’s doodle comes from my and my husband’s (well, then boyfriend’s) first Valentine’s Day together. We’d been together for close to a year at the time. I wasn’t really sure what to expect, since we had both talked about our dislike for commercialized holidays, but let’s just say that what happened wasn’t something that crossed my mind.

On Valentine’s Day, I came home from school (I was a junior in college at the time) and went to my room after chatting briefly with my grandmother. I stood next to my computer desk to lean over and turn the tower on, and when I stood up, I noticed someone coming out of my closet out the corner of my eye. I’ve had terrible anxiety for a long time, and someone breaking in and killing me was always something I worried over. It was happening.

Anxiety is a bitch, but my, what it does for one’s imagination.

I let out a blood curdling scream worthy of a second-rate horror movie.

So long Frankenstein face, hello terrified face.

And then my brain registered that it wasn’t a murderous criminal hiding out in my closet — it was my better half.

“That wasn’t the reaction I was hoping for he said,” he told me, handing me the flowers. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

I felt rather embarrassed over this, but then again, who wouldn’t be freaked out when she notices a man coming out of her closet?

My grandmother popped in about that time, laughing. “I knew that’s what was going to happen when you said you wanted to hide in her closet and surprise her!” she said.

“Well, why didn’t you say that?” he asked.

“Because I thought it would be funny,” she replied.

Gee, thanks. Give me a heart attack all for the sake of your own amusement. I guess she was getting a little payback for all those years of me being a dumb kid and doing the same.

Do you have any stories of where your partner had nothing but the best intentions, but things went wrong in a hurry?

Thanks for joining me for the April A to Z Challenge! If you’re participating, please leave a link in the comments section so I can check out your post.

Want to connect on social media? You can find me on Facebook, Twitter, and Bloglovin.

Hair Like Meg Ryan

For our date night a while back, my husband and I ordered take-out and watched You’ve Got Mail. This was no Netflix and chill, though. Instead, we kicked it old school and watched the DVD I’ve had since I was in high school.

My grandmother was a fan of romantic comedies, so I watched a lot of those since I lived with her. She was a Meg Ryan super fan (until The Affair with Russell Crowe, sigh), and I became one too after watching You’ve Got Mail. As a teen who had recently gotten an Internet connection, I thought it was the most romantic thing ever. A smart guy! Who enjoys books! And can write! Such a guy didn’t exist in my class of 70-odd students (that I was aware of), so that movie gave my love life a little hope.

You know how couples have a song? It might be the first song they ever danced to together or the one they danced to at their wedding. This movie is our equivalent of that. (Well, technically we have a Song, too, and it’s not a Hanson song since my husband put his foot down.)

We went the same route as the characters, meeting online, taking forever to meet, and when we did it was amazeballs (well, it was amazeballs a couple months after we met, when my nervousness wore off and I didn’t treat him like a brother). Our story isn’t quite as interesting, and consists only of a few missed hints and involuntarily dodged kisses — no business war and all that — but otherwise IT’S EXACTLY THE SAME.

We were getting sappy and stuff while watching the movie, reciting lines here and there, like it was of Star Wars or Shakespeare importance, when it dawned on me that there was something about me that my husband didn’t know about me. Once you’ve been married to someone for 10 years, finding something new to share from one’s past is pretty major. It’s almost on the level of giving diamonds. Almost.

“Oh my god, that haircut!” I commented. “I loved that haircut when I was in high school. I had it for the better part of two years. But it never worked out for me.”

This is it, in case you haven’t watched You’ve Got Mail or just don’t remember:

Alternatively, you can look at the haircut here, if the doodle isn’t doing it for you.

Between my lack of being able to blow my wavy (but not curly, dammit) hair straight, it not being the right haircut for my face, and the crappy stylist whose cuts rarely resembled the picture given, the haircut didn’t work for me. It didn’t work the first time I was a sophomore in high school, or the second time adding blonde highlights, or even the 89th time, when I was a senior in high school, and I’d highlighted my hair so much that it was nearly straight up blonde. (This is when I realized I should just let it grow out and go back to my natural color.)

The idea of having Meg Ryan’s haircut was amusing to my husband.

“She wasn’t in her 40s at the time,” I said, defending my style choice for god knows what reason. “Probably like her 30s. Or mid-30s.”

“That’s really not better. You were 15!” he exclaimed.

“Almost 16, though. And it was a cute haircut! Just not on me. Which may be why I didn’t date more in high school.”

“Aw, I’m sure it wasn’t that bad,” he said. “Just pretty bad.”

(And if you think admitting you wanted the haircut of an older woman was bad, try admitting that you had a crush on Tom Hanks when you were 15…or 33, for that matter. Sigh.)

I didn’t show him my picture in the yearbook from that haircut — the one where I was wearing a plain white t-shirt for, again, god knows what reason. Add in being sweaty as hell because it was early September in SC, plus that haircut, and you’ve got loads of awfulness.

See? All the awfulness.

My sharing the haircut story pretty much ruined You’ve Got Mail from a romantic standpoint. The idea of wanting to look like a middle age woman in my teens kind of overshadows the whole “how we met” thing. That opens the door for making a Hanson song Our Song, though, so there’s that.

Have you ever aspired to look much older than you actually were, or otherwise have any interesting Bad Haircut stories to share?

Want to connect on social media? You can find me on FacebookTwitter, and Bloglovin.

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