Kevin and Aubrey: Part 1

LAST I CHECKED, I OWED YOU A FEW POSTS, DIDN’T I?

Are you sure you want them though?

I mean, you can only hear the words “Kevin and Aubrey” so much in one year, and here I go making it into a series.

And that’s the sound of you clicking off this website. It’s okay really, if you don’t want to read these. But if you’re a sap like me for a good ol’ love story, feel free to stick around. I may or may not talk about ex boyfriends, OCD and a chance meeting with Jack Sparrow. I will probably talk about Kevin. Kevin Kevin Kevin Kevin.

Kevin.

And a little bit about myself.

You suuuure?

Here goes. From the beginning.

I could start with that one sentence that changed the world for me – for us. I could start with the conversation that followed, tell you Kevin’s awesome comment that I still tease him for, and admit that I spent an entire day Facebook stalking him but our story, for me at least, starts way before that.

It started the day I decided to go to college.

It was July of 2009, and it was hot. I was busy working at an Internet Marketing company that I’d worked at for two years. It was a great, stable job and I was comfortable with my place in the company. This was my soul excuse for putting off school – I’d do it just as soon as I had the time.

I had a lot of excuses back then.

Oh they were all valid of course – I was busy with work, enjoying a summer off, still needed to take my ACT (suffice it to say I did everything I could to graduate early, and taking the ACT wasn’t high on the list of priorities back then), I wasn’t sure of a major or a focus, college required both time and money, two things I was lacking in large amounts.

You wanna know the real reason I didn’t go sooner?

I was dating a particular someone back then – alright, alright, Dale. Just because I deleted the posts didn’t mean it didn’t happen. And who am I to pretend, he knows about my blog. At least, I know his siblings in Kaysville and his girlfriend in Queen Creek Arizona do since they’ve visited my blog this month.

Bet they didn’t know I had those kinds of stats, did they?

Anyway back to where I was going with this. I was dating Dale, who insisted that he wanted me to go to college. Let’s just say he got kind of pushy about it and combined with my excuses for not going, the stubborn streak set in. I wasn’t going to go to school until I was good and ready. He wasn’t going to marry me until then. I didn’t think he’d do it anyway, and I wasn’t going to just go to school for someone else. College became one of the main source of our arguments.

(Just to clarify – I’m only talking about Dale here because I feel it’s important for you to know where I was mentally at the time. I’m not on here to bash, as I’m sure there are accusations that could’ve – and did – fly both ways. I don’t want to get into those stories, so I won’t.)

They weren’t pretty arguments, but I stood my ground and made it clear to him and everyone that I. Would. Go. To. School. When. I. Was. Good. And. Ready.

That day came in late July of 2009. I don’t remember the exact moment. I just remember the need I had to achieve something. It was an odd feeling, to have my adamant ‘no’ shift to an even louder yes. I had the burn back to make something of myself, to dig deep into my inner being and bring back the part of me that loved doing something different, taking risks, learning new things. I remember making the plans to take my ACT and not telling anyone. It was my little secret. I dusted off my prep book and started trying to relearn the words and equations that never quite took root in high school.

It wasn’t the most fun thing I’d ever done, but it wasn’t too terrible either.

I remember walking into that testing center and feeling completely prepared.

Want to know how I did?

I FAILED IT.

By one point. One measly, little point kept me from approaching those admission doors. The writing and reading sections weren’t the problem, it was the math. I sat in my chair staring at the results in my left hand and waited for the blow. I waited for the cruel voice of my inner mentality to sneer, you’re not good enough, you failed, all the money and studying in the world couldn’t help you. Nobody wants you here, you don’t deserve to be at college. You don’t belong here. I waited for a much nicer version to come from my heart, that’s it, you tried, college is overrated. But something strange happened.

Neither came.

I still wanted to go through with this. I had set my sites on college, and I’d be damned if I didn’t get in. I allowed myself a twenty minute break with a pink cookie and a mountain dew before I started on the math placement test. I didn’t see a need to wait. Which was good, because I didn’t have much time to waste. It was the end of July, and classes started in late August.

I finished my test and was instructed to talk to a counselor. I got lost on the way there. The counselor was a nice, short lady with dark skin and huge brown eyes. She showed me lists of required courses and circled the ones that would be the best pick for me. Apparently my test score landed me smack dab between two course options. I could choose Math 1000, or the easy road, Math 0990. The first one was a combination of high school and college algebra. The second was high school algebra and therefore wouldn’t count as any credits. I opted for 990, which wound up being one of the best choices I’d ever made.

To be continued . . .