Today just so happens to be my husband Brian’s 37th birthday, so I thought I would dedicate this week’s column to him. I don’t even know where to start, but I suppose the beginning is a good place. We met in college almost 16 years ago, although we have slightly different stories when it comes to when we “first” met. His brother lived in the same dorm as my best friend, so our paths crossed a couple of times before our official meeting on New Year’s Day 2005. I will keep this short, as I’m limited on space and I could take up a whole page or two.
I wasn’t looking to meet anyone at the time. In fact, I was actually considering moving back home. Texas A&M played Tennessee in Dallas at the Cotton Bowl that year, Brian and his brother were in town for the game but had failed to make a hotel reservation and needed a place to stay. I was home for the holiday break, but wasn’t too keen on the idea. In fact, the first time his brother called, I let it go to voicemail, but a little voice inside told me to do the right thing and call them back. My parents were fine with the boys staying at their house for the night, but in exchange for their free stay, they had to help me take a TV back to College Station that I had gotten for Christmas (because back then, televisions weighed a lot more than they do now).