Life Is a Mix CD, Part Six

One Summer Last Fall (Fall 2003)

1. Reggie and the Full Effect “From Me to You”
2. Value Pac “Don't Look Back”
3. Belle & Sebastian “Sleep the Clock Around”
4. Actionslacks “Tad Loves Kimberly James”
5. The Postal Service “The District Sleeps Alone Tonight”
6. Stairwell “Breathless”
7. Coldplay “The Scientist”
8. The Pixies “Here Comes Your Man”
9. Starflyer 59 “Fell In Love at 22”
10. Jets to Brazil “In the Summers When You Really Know”
11. Plankeye “One or the Other”
12. Weezer “You Gave Your Love to Me Softly”
13. Alkaline Trio “Message From Kathleen”
14. Piebald “All You Need Is Drums to Start a Dance Party”
15. Nada Surf “The Voices”
16. Jimmy Eat World “For Me This Is Heaven”
17. The Dismemberment Plan “Gyroscope”
18. Hot Water Music “Sweet Disasters”
19. Braid “A Dozen Roses”
20. The Ataris “The Summer Wind Was Always Our Song”
21. Elvis Costello “She”
22. Creeper Lagoon “Here We Are”

The Fall of 2003 found me coming into my last year at Texas A&M. I had discovered who I was, and what I was passionate about. I hadn't, however, discovered anyone I could share my passion with. I also couldn't find anyone who would take me as I was. In August 2003, I was coming off two failed relationships and quite jaded about the whole raw deal. My poetry had again taken some dark turns, and I sat around and pined and moped a lot. I probably watched a lot of Audrey Hepburn movies, which didn't help the situation. It occurs to me a lot of Audrey Hepburn movies don't end all that satisfactorily. Roman Holiday ends with a jaded potential lover in Gregory Peck who has fallen completely in love with a girl he can never have. One of my personal favorites, the vastly underrated Two for the Road ends with a husband and wife who have had their own affairs and trial separations deciding being with each other is as good as it gets, and they make a decision to go ahead and live with that. A little depressing, to be honest. Sure, Breakfast at Tiffany's seems to have a happy ending, but you have to remember Holly Golightly is bat-shit crazy, and poor old Paul Varjak has to deal with her the rest of his life (the book doesn't end quite the same way and the book ending is always in my mind when the last scene in the rain, complete with "Moon River," comes on anyway). I guess these movies probably didn't help my general disposition. Little did I know at the end of the summer of 2003, I was about to meet my wife. Also, little did I know, I already knew her.

Here begins the chronicle of how I met my wife. To start at the beginning, I have to rewind nearly a decade from 2003 to the 7^th grade. Coming out of 6^th grade, I transitioned from all regular classes to honors classes. I had performed remarkably well in all my classes and all my teachers recommended me for honors. Because of the new classes, I saw a lot of new faces during my 7^th grade year. One such face appeared in my Texas History class in the form of Liz Patterson. By the middle of the school year, I was crushing hard on Liz, though to let her know of my affections terrified me, so I, of course, never did. I used to keep a list of the girls I liked (how embarrassing) and Liz dominated The List for the vast majority of 7^th grade. We did a group project in Texas History. I still remember the project fondly. It was a lot of fun and gave me the opportunity to spend time with this girl I liked so much. Since getting together, Liz has discovered she even still has some stuff from this project that she had saved in a storage bin. In eighth grade, my fickle heart moved on to liking other girls and being far too terrified to ask them out (I notice a trend developing here). Liz and I maintained a friendly status all the way through high school, and often spoke to one another and sat near each other in classes, but that's all there ever was between us in high school. Near the end of high school, instant messaging was reaching its prime and one day while hanging out at one of my best friend's (Jeremy's) house, we were sitting at the computer and chatting to whoever was around. Liz happened to be around and we chatted with her for a while. I think I gave her my screen name and asked if I could add her. The details are a little fuzzy, but that was how I got Liz's screen name. When I look back now, that simple act of getting her screen name ended up being a life-changing event. I must pause here to give eternal thanks to Jeremy, whom without I might have never reconnected with Liz.

Fast-forward to August of 2003. I had chatted with Liz maybe twice throughout college, and I don't remember anything about those conversations per se, just that they had happened. While pining away, I had contracted a minor case of insomnia. I found myself up really late one night, the night of August 12^th. It must have been between 2 and 3 in the morning. My buddy list looked extremely sad. There were oddly very few people on, and I was bored and had no desire to go to bed. I saw Liz pop online and knew I hadn't spoken to her in a long time. I went ahead and struck up a conversation. When Liz recalls the story, she remembers she was just popping online to check email or something before going to bed. We ended up chatting until the sun came up and Liz had to leave for a rehearsal. We talked about all kinds of things: people from high school we had seen or heard from, shared memories of middle school and high school, but we also talked about music and movies and actors we liked and that kind of thing. Instead of just rehashing the past, we actual got a pretty good idea how we both had changed and who we were right then in the summer of 2003. What I remember most is how easy conversation was. We are lucky Liz still had her old instant messenger logs. For a wedding present, Liz printed them all out and had them bound. We have an actual chronicle of our early relationship via instant messenger.

To get back to the story, we started talking to each other online a lot more and discovered we were both going to be back home the same weekend before school started back up. We made tentative plans to get together for coffee. The day we got together, I had been at the lake with my family. I was a little sore from kneeboarding and playing at the lake and also probably a little sunburned, but I went ahead and called Liz up. We agreed to meet at Starbucks and ended up closing the place down (which is no great feat in Amarillo, where Starbucks closed at 10). We moved to Whataburger where we sat and talked until 3 or 4 in the morning. I don't really remember what all we talked about. I remember we talked about our past relationships or relationships that we attempted to have with people who were too dense to like us in return. Probably not the best subject to tackle at such an early juncture, but I am glad we got the baggage out of the way before our relationship ever really started. I also remember Liz wore a Popeye (the sailor man) t-shirt and red corduroy pants. If my memory is wrong, I am sure she will correct me. I also remember how easy it was to talk to her. I probably had more confidence than I gave myself credit for, even though I portrayed myself as a self-loathing, shy scenester kid. Regardless, conversation came easy, and I found myself not wanting to leave.

Before we ever started officially dating, I made this mix, One Summer Last Fall, for her. At least, that is what I told myself. I didn't know her well enough to make a mix for her. I probably wasn't even emotionally capable of making a mix for her. The mix itself really is more a portrait of myself. There are songs on there I should have never put on if my true intention was to get the girl. I mean most girls aren't going to like Hot Water Music or Alkaline Trio. If she had listened more closely to the lyrics of Nada Surf's “The Voices,” a song about being a little crazy and hearing voices in your head, she might have run, but I am glad she didn't. Value Pac sneaks on to the mix. It was probably temporarily back in rotation in my CD player at the time. I am really okay with it though. I still love that song, plus those pop punk songs are part of who I was and are still a part of who I am. “The Summer Wind Was Always Our Song” sneaks on once again, which baffles me. I mean, I really don't like the song at all any more. There are of course some songs put on the mix to woo her, namely “Breathless,” “The Scientist,” “In the Summers When You Really Know,” “Tad Loves Kimberly James,” “For Me This Is Heaven,” and “She.” Those songs are part of me, too, though. Deep down I am a romantic who appreciates a happy ending where the guy gets the girl, at least every once in a while. Those songs explained what I thought a relationship could and should be.

The mix must have done the trick, because she decided to take me, faults and all. During my first visit to see her in Denton in September, we decided to put the franchise tag on one another. We were “dating.” We were “boyfriend and girlfriend.” That last year of college became a whirlwind of weekend trips to Denton when I could swing the time off of work, and several visits by her to College Station. In the meantime, we logged all kinds of cell phone hours (we are talking serious overage charges here, people), we chatted all the time on IM. We probably neglected our studies more than we should have. I missed several Monday morning classes because I couldn't bring myself to leave Denton Sunday night. We spent our first New Year's Eve together, my first ever kiss to ring in a new year. We met each other's parents. We spent our first holidays together. We continued seeing each other right through to both of our college graduations. Deciding we could no longer stand the world without one another, we both moved back home in the summer of 2004 so that we could live in the same town and go on dates whenever we wanted and see each other every waking hour that we weren't working. I didn't want that long stretch of road between us any more. I didn't want to be without her. I still don't.