(The following story is my love story, be aware that this is very personal, but something I wish for my children to know about their parents when they get older, and I'm senile.)
All through high school I dreamed of having a boyfriend who would love and adore me. I went on a few dates, but nothing terribly serious. I mostly went out with my buddies, because I knew I would have fun with them instead of being all nervous with a guy I really wanted to impress. Thanks to those experiences I learned what kind of a man I wanted to marry: a worthy priesthood holder, a man who could sing, someone I felt comfortable with, and someone who was my friend.
I continued to dream about my Romeo, and even thought maybe I already knew the man I was destined to be with. (Yes, I truly believed in destiny....don't know if I completely agree with that notion now...)
In my mind, falling in love would be the end all of my existence. After that, life would be simple. I wouldn't have any worries. (Go ahead and laugh.....I'll wait.)
As a senior in high school, I was coming to the end of the perfect high school experience. (Or what I thought was perfect.) I was in a fabulous group of friends and we were all very supportive of one another, and it was great. We were mostly girls, with a few guys coming and going...mostly going.
This particular year we had one guy that stuck around. His name was Aaron. He was a very VERY spiritual and OH, so cute. Every girl in my circle of friends at one time or another had a crush on him. Toward the end of the year, he and another of my friends became close and eventually became engaged.
I was in shock. I remember asking them if they were happy that they had found their soul mate, and how it felt to know that life would be easier.
They both laughed at me.
It was then that I began re-evaluating my ideas about love and romance.