Skip to main content

the old stand by.

I never really had a serious boyfriend in high school.  I went on dates, and to a few dances, but most of my weekends were spent making music videos to Michael Jackson's greatest hits with the girls, screaming in the stands at the game, and eating an alarming amount of fast food.  I hear how pathetic that sounds.  After high school, though, I upped my dating game, and landed like three serious boyfriends--two of which my mom was ready to run down with her car.  I still went on plenty of other dates, and basically what I'm trying to tell you is that I was never the one doing the dumping, but rather, the one getting dumped.  I know... you're shocked.  With these good looks and winning personality...what were they thinking?! Just kidding.  We all know that I'm a lot to handle.

I could tell you plenty of stories about my dating years.  Like how I met one guy I dated when he opened up the gym door abruptly smashing me in the head and knocking me out.  Or how I gave that same kid a ride to his big, nice truck later that evening only to watch two other guys get in to the truck he claimed to be his and drive away to his horror.  I could tell you about the worst blind date ever, which included my two best friends and hiking up waterfall canyon.  We all know I appreciate nature. The end of the date included the boys commenting on how much us girls could eat while they serenaded us off key around the campfire and told us about how they couldn't give up their jobs at the movie theater because then they wouldn't get free posters.  I could tell you about the boyfriend who dumped me and then on the drive home told me how beautiful our kids would be and what he wanted to name them.  And about how when I walked in the door crying and confused my dad and brother took off after him in to the front yard.  I could tell you about the boy who threw an air hockey striker at me after I beat him at the game in front of the entire restaurant and he screamed that I had ripped out his manhood.  I could tell you about how I accidentally met a kid I was supposed to go on a blind date with three days before our date and how he then promptly canceled our date.  But in all of that mess there was one thing that kept happening.  And his name was Dewy Hodges.

Dewy had just moved back to town as my girlfriends and I were starting college.  We met through mutual friends, and hung out ALL. THE. TIME.  I thought he was handsome, and funny, and we always had a good time.  We did NOT however start dating right away.  Past relationships had left him a bit of a woman-hater, and he was not interested in venturing down that path again just yet. That was fine with me, because I was only 18.  I'm going to preface this next part by explaining that all the parties involved here probably have their own versions of this story, and perception is reality.  However, my version is clearly the right one.

Dewy and I went out on dates.  He knew I liked him.  He also knew that one of my "best friends" had decided she liked him too. He came right out and said he didn't want to date either of us because he wasn't interested in getting serious, but the phone call I got from Dewy at midnight one night telling me he had just made out with her said otherwise.  You can imagine it effectively ended that friendship, as well.  I loaded up my car and bolted to St. George--thanks for letting me crash on your couch, Flail--screaming Avril Lavigne's "Girlfriend" the entire way. When I got back, I found out the two of them had been dating, and I started dating a guy.  Long story short, that guy dumped me, and Dewy showed up.  We saw each other at a Cinco De Mayo party--thanks for throwing that, Dan!--and made out outside.  For the record, he staggered backwards and said I was "way better than" that "friend" he'd gone after previously.   I wasn't voted "Most Kissable Lips" for four years in a row for nothing, pal.  We dated, and then I ended up making out with my ex-boyfriend.  We will call that karma.  Dewy said he was done, and we parted ways.

The next guy I dated was smooth and good looking, and I met him through his mother. He can go jump off a bridge, but I really adore his family. Our first date came about when I got stood up by a date, and this guy text me and said asked if that guy's loss could be his gain.  We dated for a while, and then... you guessed it!...he dumped me.  The day after he dumped me, we had a work meeting in Salt Lake.  While there, our office sat at a table with another office.  I was sitting next to a guy that looked familiar, and after about an hour I finally turned to him and said, "How do I know you? You look so familiar!" and he responded, "Well...we dated so..." Classy, Amber.  And since my recent ex boyfriend's mother was sitting next to me it got really cozy. When I got home from that work meeting, Dewy Hodges was standing in my kitchen.  He asked me to go for a walk, and while we were on our walk he told me he wanted to give it a real shot.  To really see if we could work out.  Basically he was missing making out with me, right? Just kidding.  He was totally sincere.  I, however, was now in the position of hating the opposite sex.  I told him we could date, but that I wasn't interested in more than that right now.  This was in May, and we dated for a while.  Then, in November, Dewy told me he didn't want to date anyone else.  That he wanted us to be exclusive.  I told him I had a date on Tuesday.  It's a wonder this guy ever stuck around.  The last date I ever went on with another guy was SO boring, and ended at 8PM.  Two days after Christmas Dewy told me he loved me, but was under the influence of NyQuil and I didn't believe him.  Fast forward to Valentine's Day.

It was a Saturday, and I was at work. Meanwhile he was doing secret things like giving my dad ten cows and asking if he could marry me.  I'm not kidding.  He really gave my dad ten cows.  We went out to dinner that night, and the entire meal our waiter flirted with me.  I'm talking leaning down on the table telling me how beautiful my eyes were and trying to get to know me.  Dewy was slightly less than impressed.    The following Friday I went to watch Dewy in a basketball game.  After the game, he told me to pickup Arby's and meet him at his house.  He had to get gas, which was apparently code for pickup my ring.  I beat him to his house, and everyone was acting weird.  He walked in and his mom asked if he had gone to get gas.  What kind of question...? And because I am an idiot, it all went right over my head.  He was exceptionally rude to me all night, and at 9PM said "So are you ready to go home, now, or what?" Well, apparently.  He says he was nervous he was going to blow it.  I say he was rude.

The following day I was at work again.  We were texting, which was totally against the office rules but whatever, and then he went dark for about three hours.  When he finally started responding again, he told me that he had sliced his hand open on a can of peaches and been rushed to the ER for stitching.  That night after work I met him at Weber State for his sister's cheer competition, and sure enough, his hand was bandaged up nicely.  You know what he said? "Don't you dare blog about this."  And I listened for about ten years.  After the competition, he got in my car and we headed to his house to change his bandage and get him some pain meds.  He tried to stall a bit by saying weird things like he needed to fill my tank--which was three-quarters of the way full--with gas first and all kinds of other rubbish.  Apparently he was buying time for his cousin to get into position to film.  You've heard of Bear Grills? Yeah on my engagement video we get to meet Wolf Skillet.  Freaking CJ...As we approached his house he was ultra fidgety, and claimed he had to pee.  He threw off his seat belt and bolted in the house before I threw my little Hyundai Accent in park.  We went into his room where all his medical supplies were out on his nightstand.  When I grabbed the scissors to cut the bandage off, he panicked and told me just to unwrap it.  Like I was going to gash him or something... I think the damage is already done, man.  I unwrapped his hand, and left the gauze pad on his palm as I turned to the supplies to get everything I needed ready.  He told me to make sure I changed the gauze pad, so I reached behind me and grabbed it off his palm without looking.  What I didn't notice was my ring was sitting right there under the piece of gauze.  No cut.  No blood.  Just a big, shiny diamond.  And poor Dewy trying desperately to be patient and wait for me to turn back around. 

I could tell you about how when I called to schedule the temple for our ceremony I got all flustered when the lady asked my fiance's name because we technically weren't engaged yet--my grandpa told me I was putting the cart before the horse.  When I told her that he wasn't my fiance, she said hesitantly, "Dear... does he know you're calling us?" I could tell you that my mother in law was always referring to me as Dewy's "old stand by" which is super flattering.  Little did she know that he was just as much my booty call as I was his.  I could tell you that I kick my self every day that Pinterest wasn't a thing when I got married, but my mom counts her blessings.  I could tell you that a guy tried to talk me out of marrying Dewy so he could date me.  I could also tell you that Dewy was saying completely inappropriate things in this picture.  But instead, I'll just tell you that our engagement anniversary is coming up, and I can't wait to see what Dewy is gonna buy me.  That's right babe... don't worry... I've got a whole list for you to pick from.  Happy Friday everybody.





 

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

you little smarty pants.

I'm not sure if you've heard or not, but I'm a teacher.  If you're new here, welcome! and buckle up because I talk about my job A LOT.  I feel very passionate about education, and have some strong opinions about pedagogy, testing, homework, and more. I'm also a strong advocate for teachers.  My poor boys are so screwed.  I'd like to think I'll always have their backs when it comes to dealing with issues at school, but if they are being bone heads to their teachers... beware the wrath of this mom-teacher.  I have a feeling I'll be taking the side of the teacher. Whatever.  My oldest son is in second grade and participating in a dual immersion program at school.  This means that half of his day is learning language arts and reading in English, and half of his day is spent learning science and math in Spanish.  I'm talking no English speaking is allowed.  I have great things to say about this program, and some negative things, but overall it is work

friday favorites instagram edition.

I spend unhealthy amounts of time scrolling through Instagram, and I'm only kind of sorry about it.  I follow a few hundred accounts, but I have my select favorites.  Today for Friday Favorites, I've compiled an Instagram edition where I share my favorite accounts and why. 1. Kate Call @latewithkate Ok you guys... I discovered this account when I was turned on to her story about accidentally brushing her teeth with what she assumed was toothpaste, and actually wasn't.  I thought I was going to die laughing.  Kate is beautiful, a mom of four girls--if I'm allowed to have favorites then #naughtynova is mine--Target obsessed, and has dance moves to rival all the acts on World of Dance.  The woman literally has me spitting out my drinks 90% of the time--and we all know how serious that must be.  She posts videos of her and her husband attempting couples yoga poses, and all of her stories are hilarious.  From when she thought her OBGYN called her "beefy" to he

i never wanted to be a teacher, but here we are

I've taught English for almost a decade.  For a while it was 8th and 9th grade, but for the last six years I have taught strictly 9th and 9th grade honors English.  I've also coached cheerleading and been the student government advisor, which means that over the course of the last nine years I have worked with the best this junior high has to offer.  Don't get me wrong, all 15 year old kids can be squirrly and obnoxious, but for the most part--if you smack them around a little--they are so fun. Those elementary teachers, though? They are the real heroes. If you screw up a kid in elementary, they are screwed for life... at my job, they come already screwed up.  Way less pressure that way. I'm obviously kind of kidding. My days are mostly the same.  Instruction, grading, a hormonal girl crying, pulling two kids away from each other as they try to make out in  the hall--my kids know my rules on PDA: 1. you must be good looking and 2. you must be good at it, and they are