Our Love Story: Part 1

It was a summer day in Colorado, hot and dry. The air was sweet with pine and dirt, the kind of scent that would remind you of your favorite camping trip. I had been restless all day, knowing what would eventually unfold later that afternoon. A friendship would be lost and the greatest love story of my life to date would end.

I was only eighteen years old in 2006, but I felt as if I had led a lifetime of love and adventure with him. We had met under a giant October moon nearly three years prior, and our relationship had been tumultuous and full of passion. Our companionship was always prized, even though age and distance threatened to separate us at any time. It was exhausting, honestly. We were friends that could never really be friends. So it became love or nothing. And I had chosen nothing.

When he drove up, my heart started to flutter but I stuffed it down, rudely telling it to shut the hell up. I had been hurt, and it was time to move on. I just wanted to move across the country and forget all about this young love. Settle down in Boston, meet someone, and never come home.

“It’s time for me to move on,” I ended up telling him. “This whole game of are we friends or not? is old, and I’m sick of it.”

He told me that he could never quite get over me knowing I was still hung up on him.

“I’m over you,” I told him quickly. I felt the sting in my own voice, and I knew it hurt him. It hurt me, too. It felt like a lie. He turned his head sharply, we said goodbye, and I put him out of my mind.

...

Me in 2002 (eyebrows! yikes) / Ali and I in 2002 (someone failed at spelling)

Spencer and I first laid eyes on one another in high school. We were in the same gym class, of all the awkward places you can meet at that age. The year was 2002, and I was fourteen and he was sixteen. Spencer recalls that I was really bad at volleyball (a completely true fact about me) and that I would spin around on my heel every time I missed a serve, which he just thought was the cutest thing. 

It’s probably pretty girl power of me that I don’t remember much of him at this time. Truth is, at that age I was entirely boy crazy but also completely caught up in the True Love Waits / “I don’t date, I expect to be courted...” scene of late ‘90‘s, early 2000‘s Christian youth groups.  I didn’t make much sense, as most teenagers don’t. Very high maintenance, I did my make up meticulously and even curled my hair after every gym class, the running and sweat always straightening it back out. My outfits had to be just so, and I counted my calories obsessively. I was on stage every weekend in my youth group’s worship band, and best friends to the wild and popular kids at church. I was on a pedestal that I climbed onto myself, but I didn’t know what to do up there. All this effort to look great for boys and the sake of popularity didn’t materialize to much of anything. I didn’t really date, hadn’t really had a boyfriend or even a first real kiss. As most teenage girls that age are, I was hopelessly awaiting my first real romance but pretty terrified of it at the same time. 

Me in 2003 (eyebrows getting better!) / Spencer in 2003

Another year went by before we officially met. I was about to turn sixteen and was lounging around at home on a Friday night (no dating, remember?) when my best friend Ali called. 

“Come to the corn maze with me and Mark!” she said in her very persistent way. Ali was always ready for adventure. “Mark’s friends will be there!”

I had to be convinced, but obligingly accepted. Mark and Ali picked me up ten minutes later, and we drove off to meet up with friends. I hadn’t even bothered to put on my makeup, which you will remember was very unlike me at the time. We pulled up to a house, and walked into the backyard. There was punk music blaring and bright flood lights illuminating a massive half pipe where several skaters and one BMX rider were gliding up and down the sides with ease. Mark grabbed a skateboard, and I clung to Ali’s arm, stunned at the cool factor of it all. 

“Where are we?” I asked her in wonder. It was like I had died and gone to the heaven that Avril Lavigne had only sung about. Skater-boy land.

“Spencer’s house. That’s him riding the bike.”

When we got back into the car, I hurriedly asked Mark to turn on the light so I could put on my makeup in the rear view mirror. These boys were damn cool, and all of the classic teenage insecurities came flooding back to me when I realized how naked my face felt. If I was going to have a flirty night, I thought, I needed to look hot.

We got to the corn maze, and jumped on the hay ride that would carry us out to the haunted maze. With my huge imagination, I immediately started regretting the decision to subject myself to such terror, despite any cute skater boys that I’d get to hang out with that night. Mark started teasing Spencer and I, saying that we should just get off the truck and head back home. I looked over to Spencer, with his sweet smile and tall frame, and realized that I didn’t mind that suggestion one bit. 

We arrived at the entrance to the maze, and I put myself smack in the middle of the group. Every now and then, actors with masks and fake chainsaws would jump out from the corn rows on the side of the path. Every time, I’d shriek and run. People would scramble, and I’d try my best to get back to the middle of the pack. At one point, I found myself at the front, somehow. I turned around to see how far back everyone was, and walked right into a man in a dark mask jumping out at me.

I screamed, and backpedaled as fast as I could before tripping and falling backwards. My shoulders hit a warm chest, and arms came sweeping around me. I was set back on my feet, and I turned to see Spencer, with his deep blue eyes, smiling at me. 

“Thanks,” I stuttered awkwardly. 

Before we piled into our cars to head back, I confided in Ali.

“I know this is dumb since I just met him, but Spencer’s really cute.”

“Sure,” she said, not paying much attention. She knew how boy crazy I was. It was old news.

“I mean, he’s really sweet and he caught me back there in the field,” I swooned with a bit of hesitancy.

“You just met him, Anne.” Ali was level headed when I was not. 

“Alright, alright,” I conceded. And we all went back home.

...

Three days later, on my 16th birthday, Ali came running up to me and a group of our friends in the hallway at school. 

“Anne, he likes you!” she said with a huge smile on her face.

“Who?” I had forgotten all about it.

“Spencer!” she screamed. My other friends started asking who Spencer was.

“What are you talking about?” I didn’t believe her one bit.

“I talked to him, and he said he wants to hang out with you!” Ali jumped up and down.

The day turned into a fog. The week turned into a haze. Spencer and I started seeing each other often, first to study, and then for movies with friends. Quick hello’s in the hallway at school turned into long, lingering conversations on the phone at home. When we went snowboarding together one weekend, the stage was set with crisp mountain air and soft flakes falling slowly, and our young romance became official to the world. 

I was sixteen, and we were inseparable. My young heart had met its match in nearly every way - he appreciated the depth of my emotion, laughed with me, encouraged me to be adventurous, and respected my body and soul. At that point, there were a lot of misconceptions about who I was and who I wanted to be with. Boys that were interested in me assumed I wanted to be treated like a princess, or that I would want to celebrate my birthday being guided up my street on horseback, wearing a crown (yes, that was an actual idea some friends came up with for my sixteenth birthday party). But in all truth, I was adventurous and craved spontaneity. I had a dark, emotional side that liked poetry, and rock music. Spencer inspired these things in me. There was an air of rebellion about him, and I could tell he craved raw honesty and deep thinking. But he was also kind and genuine. We balanced each other out. There was never pressure but hardly any doubt that we wouldn’t end up together. It seemed obvious to me: we were forever bound from the moment we laid eyes on each other.

Even at such a young age, we were so free with our words of love and admiration for each other. We wrote each other letters and poems weekly, sometimes daily. For a young writer like myself, it seemed this boy couldn’t get any better. He wasn’t just cute and funny, but smart and creative, too. His words were sometimes dark and twisty, but always carried with them a sense of intention that I hadn’t known in any other boys.

This world has a way of getting us down. How it does I’m not sure, but even if I knew, I don’t think I would be able to prevent it. Nevertheless, all we can ever do is endure it, and live our lives for all their worth. We must do everything we can to treasure the happy moments and learn from the difficult ones. And when these seemingly dark times befall us, when the world seems to gang up on me, it hurts at first, but never has my resolve been broken, never has yours. We carry within us a spirit that will never give up, so each new task that befalls us will ultimately be conquered, whether we do it sobbing and moaning, or in fits of hysterical rage, as if our very last ounce of strength is being sacrificed, to finish a last duty. And what then, the sun will set, rise and the world, the universe will drag you forward...  -Spencer / December 2003

Our relationship carried on into the spring of Spencer’s senior year in high school, and with it came the traditional romantic adventures. Valentine's Day was enveloped in sunrises, a surprise date and lots of kisses. And Senior Prom brought an opportunity for me to take a whack at dressing to impress, and for Spencer to introduce me to his friends as his sophomore girlfriend.

Our relationship hadn’t necessarily been received well. Since we were a few years apart, my friends didn’t know his and we started spending more time alone to fight the awkward tension. A few friends from church thought that I had abandoned my Jesus-following ways because my boyfriend was older, and interested in alternative sports and music. Rumors started flying, and it really hurt. Some of these rumors are still floating around in the ether, and I have to say, it’s pretty stupid. One woman told me that before dating Spencer, I “used to shine” and that once he and I began dating, that I didn’t “smile anymore.” To that I reply, maybe I had been living a pretty contrived life until that point. Maybe I didn’t know what to be, and felt pressured to be pretty and full of smiles, even when I felt body conscious and sad. To those that thought/think/spread rumors about all of this, I still feel sorry for you. (Had to get that out! Feels good!)

Prom was an opportunity to shine in the face of all the tension and lies swirling around me and my new boyfriend. My mom took me out to buy my first prom dress, and I chose an unconventional silk halter dress that came to just above my knees and had a low back. There would be no shiny taffeta ball gowns for me. I picked out some wispy feather earrings, and wore my hair down. The high maintenance girl that Spencer had met several months ago was nearly unrecognizable. Gone were the preppy polo shirts and gobs of makeup. This new love had cultivated a passion for creative expression, being true to myself, and a wild and free spirit. When Spencer arrived to pick me up, I felt more beautiful than I ever had in my life.

Prom was amazing, I wrote in my journal the next day. I felt so beautiful, and Spencer was so handsome. We had a blast dancing. It was the most fun I’ve ever had. 

The night was marked with a bit of melancholy, though. A deadline approached, and I couldn’t hide from it.

I am trying to treasure it all because in a few weeks, it will be over. School will end and Spencer will graduate, and we won’t know where our relationship will go. I can’t imagine being without him. You have such a beautiful and enticing spirit, Spencer. More than anything, it will be one of the most warming things I will remember about you.

...

Trying to stay friends: (top) Me, Spencer and Haley on Thanksgiving 2004

(left) Spencer and I at my high school graduation 2006 / (right) Me in Aspen, fall 2004

It wasn’t long before we broke up. The weight of importance that I put on Spencer’s shoulders was too much to bear, and he was ready to experience college and his newfound freedom. Through all the love and fun times, I came to a place where my sense of definition and understanding of who I was relied heavily on what Spencer said to me and how he acted around me. My insecurities combined with the looming expiration date of our relationship were the end of us. 

We tried to remain friends, but the tension mounted with every encounter. We both dated other people, and spiraled into a place where neither of us knew exactly who we were or wanted to be. Of course, this is how these years go in most of our lives, right? I just didn’t know how we were supposed to remain friends if we couldn’t even recognize the other person any more. In an attempt to heal our broken hearts and protect ourselves from more pain, we became different people, for good and for bad.

For two more years, this awkward dance continued. There were a few times we almost got back together. Spencer even drove down to see me on Valentine’s Day one year, instead of spending it with his then girlfriend. But finally, in the face of my upcoming move to Boston for college, I wanted to end it for good.

Prom 2006 with Ali and April. No ball gowns for me, remember?

After time had gone on, I realized that the passion we shared in our young love was nothing but a few good memories, tainted by insecurities and a lack of trust. It was time we both moved on. I had spent my senior year single and with amazing friends that helped me recover from breakups and my first bouts with anxiety. I learned more about myself and found a new direction. I was moving to Boston, and was ready for the adventure. Spencer and I were over, despite our opportunities to rekindle our relationship that summer before I went to college. We had such a strong bond, and so I decided that the only way I could muster up the courage to end it all was to grab onto anger and not let go.

...

“It’s time for me to move on,” I ended up telling him, that afternoon in 2006. “This whole game of are we friends or not? is old, and I’m sick of it.”

He told me that he could never quite get over me knowing I was still hung up on him.

“I’m over you,” I told him quickly. I felt the sting in my own voice, and I knew it hurt him. It hurt me, too. It felt like a lie. He turned his head sharply, we said goodbye, and I put him out of my mind.

Our Love Story: Part 2

Our Love Story: Part 3

Our Wedding: The Rehearsal
Our Wedding: Getting Ready
Our Wedding: The Photo Sesh
Our Wedding: The Ceremony
Our Wedding: The Reception