9 Years and counting

When I was 12 years old my sister brought home a very obnoxious boy.  And since I didn't like anyone she fraternized with, it was instant and deep dislike.

My memories of him consist of the guy with the afro sitting in our kitchen in the dark when we arrived home late one night.  Scared the dickens out of everyone.  And, of course his liking my sister.  I maintained my dislike for him.

As things go for the young, attraction faded and so did he from our lives.  Mostly mine and I was good with that.

At 18 my cousin began to ask me what I thought of the aforementioned guy with the afro. What was there to think, I replied.

Life happened.

I dated many guys, nothing happened and I went on a mission.  A little while into the mission, I received a letter from "afro guy".

Say What?!  I guess I would have to write him back.  It was mission rules.  The letters came in increasing frequency, sometimes in the form of a package of shampoo with some money inside, wrapped in cellophane.  My companion and I began to look forward to his letters and packages.

Voile!  The birth of a friendship.  And all because he "knew" the mission rules.

Before I was to come home he had prepped me for the possibility of marriage and I was actually considering it.

UNTIL I came home and "REALITY" with my MOM hit me.  Life in real life wouldn't allow me the opportunity to "date" him as someone my mother didn't have an opinion of.  It proved to be my undoing.  Our undoing.  After a trip out to California to see him, we parted ways and I made a conscious choice not to pursue things with him or allow him to pursue me.  With the knowledge firmly in hand that we were too different and I couldn't live with someone like that.

Nine years later...

1 month after my divorce I was at a Women's Conference with MomE and some of my other female relatives.  I was getting grilled about what I would be doing now.  I told them I was pretty happy and didn't want to do anything for a year.  Give myself some time to be alone.  Alone is a good thing and I was really enjoying it.  My cousin told me that Mr. Finn had been asking about me the previous summer when he visited her.  I said I wasn't ready for anything like that.  I finally promised I would get the number if the subject could be dropped.

Two days later she called with the number.  At least I could just store it in my cell phone and I would have met my obligation and maybe some reprieve from the nudging.  Unfortunately, I wasn't quite familiar with my new cell phone and instead of pushing "SAVE"...I pushed "Send".  Had no idea until I heard "Hello".  I realized instantly what I had done, and then a wave of relief.  Not a voice that I recognized.  So, I said quite confidently, "Sorry, wrong number".  The voice asks, "Who are you calling?".  I said Mr. Finn and he says, "hold on".  Noooooooooooo!   I wasn't ready for this.  How could this be happening.  The same voice comes back on the phone, "Who's calling"?  What to say...I stammer....."Robin".

This can't be happening.  I hear "Robin who?" from a voice I did recognize.

And the rest is history.

Nine Years Later...and counting.