Is it you?

It’s the first question people ask me when they read my story. “Is it you?”

My immediate reply? “No.”

And that’s the honest to God truth. Katie isn’t me. I’m not Katie. Jake is NOT my husband… you get the point. But it seriously makes me want to cringe with embarrassment. There’s sex in there! The thought of my friend’s thinking it’s us?  Well it makes me want to crawl under a rock and cover my ears so I don’t hear them laugh!

ashamed and smiling attractive young woman on white background

But last week, my husband and I were sitting on the couch after the kids went to bed, and he asked me is Jake was him. :DIE: It’s not. I had to think for a minute before answering (though it felt longer than that). “You’re in there somewhere,” was my honest reply.

And it’s the truth.

My little sister? She’s in there.

My best friend? In there.

My first crush?  Well that’s what started the whole thing. (By the way, did you just have a flashback to a Prego commercial? cause I totally did!)

When I was a young teen, I wasn’t the kind of girl boys lined up for. I was the late bloomer. The chubby one. The girl who was hopelessly in love with my brothers best friend.

I couldn’t help it. He was funny, cute, and played piano like nobody’s business. He was my idea of perfect, but he was also my friend. I loved that boy to pieces. Still do actually. Though thankfully not in the same way.

But it was the kind of love only a young girl was capable of. The doodle his name with a heart around it kind of love. The heart fluttering cause he walked into the same room feelings. The kind of love that wasn’t reciprocated even a tiny little bit.

It made for a couple of very angsty years. Every time he flirted with another girl my heart ripped a little. Every time he was nice to me, it mended back together. I read into every little look, hoping he’d one day notice me. Dreaming of the moment he’d sweep me off my feet, and carry me to my happily ever after. The fantasy of a teenage girl.

I’m happy to say that I found my happily ever after. He’s my husband, and we’ve been married for twelve years. Though he wasn’t my first crush, he picked me up in a bar. 😉

But it’s funny how those little rips in your heart stay with you forever. And it was one little tear, that began my very first story.

Home to You: Coming August 10th.

close up of  aplaster and  paper broken heart on white background with clipping path

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