Hubby called last week to tell me we had just received an email containing a picture of my first boyfriend. My curiosity was piqued.
“Is he still cute,” I asked.
“You’ll have to see for yourself,” hubby replied.
When I got home and opened the picture I was stunned. For nearly two decades Bubba has been perfectly preserved in my mind’s eye. But time has taken its toll and he whom I had once considered to be the epitome of the Greek god Adonis has turned into a pudgy, old man.
The photo was taken on his wedding day. Twenty years has passed and he is just now getting married for the first time. I guess it took him a while to get a handle on those commitment issues.
“What’s that mark in the center of his forehead,” hubby asked.
“I don’t know. It looks like a bullet hole.”
“Hmmm. Must have been a shotgun wedding,” hubby offered.
Bubba lives in Huntsville now and supposedly his wife works for NASA. I’m not sure what her job description is, but if she married this guy I can pretty much guarantee she is no rocket scientist. Bubba wasn’t exactly the brightest crayon in the box. You could say he was one sandwich short of a picnic, two bricks short of a load, or three fingers short of a handful. Actually, that last analogy reminds me of our first date.
I lived so far out in the country that it was nearly impossible to find my house. The curves, hills and trees were spectacular and our home was completely hidden from view, but Bubba did finally manage to find us.
My dad answered the door and invited him to sit on the couch. I dutifully sat across the room while my parents interrogated their eldest daughter’s first date. I knew there was trouble when mom asked about his siblings. He said he had three brothers, but I knew he only had two.
He must have realized his mistake because he started naming them, and counting on his fingers. It went something like this:
“Me, Clyde, Bocephus…no, no…I wouldn’t count me. (Still using his fingers) Clyde, Bocephus …uhhh… TWO! I’ve got two brothers!”
Bubba looked rather proud of himself as my dad sat staring in disbelief.
Finally, the question/answer session was over. It had been pretty rough and I felt sorry for him.
As we headed out to his truck I was practically skipping with excitement. He was driving an old beat-up Toyota, covered with gray bondo, but sporting a very expensive set of mag wheels. I had lived in redneck territory long enough to know that these wheels were terribly impressive, and I felt a twinge of pride.
As I settled into my seat, he handed me a ball of cotton.
“You probably aren’t used to the sound system. Put it in your ears,” he ordered.
I was surprised at his thoughtfulness! We started down the driveway, I in a white skirt with matching cotton balls in my ears, and Bubba blaring AC/DC at a level that could get him arrested.
Okay, in hindsight he wasn’t all that thoughtful, but he was pretty dang cute! As a matter of fact he was so cute I allowed a whole lot of crap that I would never in a million years put up with now.
As I sat staring at the picture, memories came flooding back. Some good, but mostly not so good.
I glanced over at my darling husband who, in my eyes, hasn’t aged a single day since we met fifteen years ago. If only I’d known then what I know now, I would have waited for him. Waited to share my first date, first kiss and first love. But hindsight is 20/20, and now I’m sitting here with my past staring me in the face while my daughters making hurling sounds over my shoulder.
“Sheesh, Mom! How could you date a guy like that?”
Finding it necessary to defend myself I pulled out an old photo album so they could see that once upon a time he was quite handsome.
“He looks just the same,” was their response.
“What? No, he doesn’t! He’s ugly now.”
“Exactly! He hasn’t changed a bit,” they insisted.
I compared the two pictures, and I had to admit they were right. It seems beauty truly is in the eye of the beholder. Thank goodness my eyes have improved with age.
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