It seems fitting to start the recaps today, as six years ago this very day I heaved a giant sigh, rolled my eyes, and reluctantly agreed that Husband could give me the title of his
girlfriend… provided that he didn’t actually
tell anyone about it.
Of course, with a start like that, a bit of a back story probably helps. So, today, you’re getting the history of Julie & Husband.
We met the day after I moved into college my freshman year (he was a year ahead). Far from love at first sight, I thought he was a pompous jerk (and his opinions of me weren’t much better). However, I found out that he was a biology major and had spent the summer interning at a genetics lab… and already knowing that I may pursue a Ph.D. in research, I thought he could be useful to keep around (yes, I am conniving). We continued to run into each other through mutual activities (science department and music department), and not-yet-Husband even invited me along to a Chanukkah party (just as a friend) at a private university up in the middle of Maryland held by his childhood best friend. Several years later I found out that I was his third choice after two girls he was actually interested in dating were unable to attend, but anxious to escape studying for finals, I decided to go along, and after a night of frying latkes for everyone else in attendance, earned the nickname “Latke Julie” that his friends from high school continue to call me to this day.
Interested in another girl at the time (and I got to hear all about how wonderful and amazing she was), Husband was just interested in pursuing a friendship with me (but I still thought he was a pompous jerk, so I kept my distance). He would leave long-winded messages on my answering machine, complaining about how I never called him back, and upon hearing one of these, a friend who lived down the hall promptly declared that someday, we would wind up married. I laughed and laughed and said I had much better taste in men… Kenny, if you’re out there, I guess after just a few months, you knew me far better than I knew myself.
My sophomore year, we wound up in the same cell biology course. During the week of midterms, my roommate was sick and rater than study for midterms, like any good friend, I had moved into her hospital room and was staying with her and keeping her company as her parents were unable to make the trip out to D.C. While in class, I mentioned that I was not feeling very prepared for the upcoming organic chemistry exam, and Husband (having taken the class the previous year), offered to help me out. The rest, of course, is history. After asking me out a mere nine times, I finally agreed to ONE date (just to get him to leave me alone). One date led to another… and then a month after our first kiss, I finally, reluctantly, agreed to the official title of “girlfriend”.
Four years later, he proposed, and a year and a half after that, we were married. And in case you were wondering, my initial judgment was dead on – I still think Husband is a pompous jerk (and he probably still doesn’t think much better of me!).
first picture of us -- Feb '03
Three years ago, at roughly 9:30pm, I was doing this:
Three years ago, at roughly 10:30pm, I was doing this:
Three years ago, at roughly midnight, I was doing this:
Tonight, at roughly 9:00pm, I was doing this:
Tonight, at roughly 9:30pm, I was doing this:
Tonight, at roughly 10:30pm, I was doing this:
Tonight, at roughly midnight, I am doing this:
My anniversary date for the evening consists of a luciferase assay, a Western blot, and 12 Excel-sheets worth of qPCR data, which seems rather appropriate, considering that I typically feel more married to the lab than to my own husband.
luefly.com
