I figured it’d be proper to introduce this blog with a little background and history. The Groom & I met while I was in New York as a foreign exchange student. It was the mid 90’s, the hair was still big and the fashion off. It was approaching Prom time at my high school and as a foreign exchange student I was kind of lost in the process. We certainly don’t have these kinds of dances back in Venezuela, I believe mostly because people there are just not organized enough to pull it off.
I was not focused on finding a date and had assumed I’d just be going with a group of friends. This must’ve been taboo in my upstate New York town because a friend immediately jumped to the opportunity by setting me up on a blind date with this Latin boy from the high school next door. She said to me “He must be from Venezuela too because you guys just match… he’s very similar to you.” To which I reacted with a mental picture of matchy things like “hmm, do these pants match with this shirt?” But I agreed to it, justifying this decision with my goal to fully experience the American Culture. Truth is, I might’ve been a wee bit excited about the thought of another Latino to dance with at the party (not that many of us Upstate New York at the time).
It was all very high school. We exchanged numbers through my friend, met over the phone, agreed to go to Prom together, corsage? Yes, meet here that Saturday and let’s drive to Prom, done!
It was so soothing to finally hear some Spanish after about nine months of what sounded like one long word to me (I knew very little English when I came to the States… and I’m being generous to myself when I say that). He told me he worked at the mall and my host-mother decided it was too weird to meet my Prom date at the Prom. So we drove to the mall one afternoon on a spy mission to determine if he was fitted to be my date or not. The plan was: we walk by his job; if we don’t see any cute guys working there we call the whole thing off. It sounded like a fair, well thought out plan to me at the time and so we marched right in.
As I approached the counter where he told me he worked I couldn’t help but notice this handsome tall boy with a smirk on his face. And all I could think of was “oh please God, let it be him! Please let it be him! I promise I won’t lie on my diary about how many chocolate chip cookies I had today” And with a big cheesy smile on my face I tapped his shoulder and said “Hi! It’s me!” (Yes, that also seemed like the most logical choice of words to me at the time). He stared at me for a few seconds and then said “Jennifer?” And that’s when I exhaled with relief, looked up to the skies and mouthed “Thank You!”
We had Dippin' Dots ice cream and talked about the latest movies (Don Juan DeMarco – how appropriate). It was nice and easy, almost like we’d been friends for years. We made more formal arrangements for the dance and well, the rest is history!
Ok, maybe not so fast. There is a lot more to it, but I’ll tell you the rest another time.
I was not focused on finding a date and had assumed I’d just be going with a group of friends. This must’ve been taboo in my upstate New York town because a friend immediately jumped to the opportunity by setting me up on a blind date with this Latin boy from the high school next door. She said to me “He must be from Venezuela too because you guys just match… he’s very similar to you.” To which I reacted with a mental picture of matchy things like “hmm, do these pants match with this shirt?” But I agreed to it, justifying this decision with my goal to fully experience the American Culture. Truth is, I might’ve been a wee bit excited about the thought of another Latino to dance with at the party (not that many of us Upstate New York at the time).
It was all very high school. We exchanged numbers through my friend, met over the phone, agreed to go to Prom together, corsage? Yes, meet here that Saturday and let’s drive to Prom, done!
It was so soothing to finally hear some Spanish after about nine months of what sounded like one long word to me (I knew very little English when I came to the States… and I’m being generous to myself when I say that). He told me he worked at the mall and my host-mother decided it was too weird to meet my Prom date at the Prom. So we drove to the mall one afternoon on a spy mission to determine if he was fitted to be my date or not. The plan was: we walk by his job; if we don’t see any cute guys working there we call the whole thing off. It sounded like a fair, well thought out plan to me at the time and so we marched right in.
As I approached the counter where he told me he worked I couldn’t help but notice this handsome tall boy with a smirk on his face. And all I could think of was “oh please God, let it be him! Please let it be him! I promise I won’t lie on my diary about how many chocolate chip cookies I had today” And with a big cheesy smile on my face I tapped his shoulder and said “Hi! It’s me!” (Yes, that also seemed like the most logical choice of words to me at the time). He stared at me for a few seconds and then said “Jennifer?” And that’s when I exhaled with relief, looked up to the skies and mouthed “Thank You!”
We had Dippin' Dots ice cream and talked about the latest movies (Don Juan DeMarco – how appropriate). It was nice and easy, almost like we’d been friends for years. We made more formal arrangements for the dance and well, the rest is history!
Ok, maybe not so fast. There is a lot more to it, but I’ll tell you the rest another time.
Posts
what a sweet sweet story! welcome to the world of wedding blogging. :)
ReplyDelete