This is a Valentine’s Day tribute to my wife, Jaime. Jaime is amazing. I have no idea how she manages to hold her own against my constant barrage of A.D.D. nervousness, strange noises, and worse smells- not to mention all the fly-by sneak attack gropings. But she does.
I hardly believe her ability, in the moments when my behavior resembles a left butt cheek, to simply roll her eyes and allow me to carry on like an overfilled enema bag. She willingly accompanies me into public (and sometimes pubic) arenas and often holds my hand without asking where its been. I am very grateful to Jaime for toughing it out with me and I am quite pleased to be found in her company and good graces on most days.
When Jaime and I met I had almost completely written off the whole dating thing. I was incredibly depressed- sure to become a crotchety old bastard who threw rocks at children as they got off the school bus. I am not entirely convinced I won’t be that guy someday, but Jaime, at least, will be by my side luring the little snots toward us with the rich, blanketing aroma of freshly baked cupcakes and a deceptively grand-maternal smile.
I met Jaime through a mutual friend, Ben E. I was passing through Cedar City, UT, home to Southern Utah University where Ben was enrolled. I called him and we made plans to connect. Ben gave me an address to meet him at. It was Jaime’s apartment.
I was immediately drawn to Jaime’s Caribbean blue eyes. They were perfectly framed by the aggressively A-lined contours of her blonde hair. She was a sassy little number in her green zip-up jumper and blue hip-hugging corduroys, and believe me- she was hot.
Unfortunately for me, I looked and smelled like a foot. As a private investigator I had spent the entire day hiding next to a bunch of dead sheep in a farmer’s field, spying on some schmuck. I was in no condition to court a beautiful young chica and, predictably, Jaime paid me absolutely no attention. I don’t blame her; no harm, no foul.
Alas, it was our mutual love of Space Ghost (in particular Brak) that finally brought us together. We bonded listening to silly sound bites from the TV show Cartoon Planet on her computer. You might say we shared “a moment”.
But like all moments, ours ended. I drove home cursing the blown opportunity to make a move on Jaime. I didn’t figure I would ever see her again.
However, I got a call from Ben a week or two later. He invited me to go to a concert. The band, the Slackers from New York City, was a personal favorite. Plus, the intimate venue- a Mexican restaurant at the back door of Zion National Park, was incredible, but the prospect of a scenery-free four hour drive teetered my decision in the balance. And when I found out that Jaime was going, and better yet- would be riding with Ben, I was screaming down the road in a matter of an hour.
I think I made an impression on Jaime that night when I walked into Ben’s apartment where she, Ben, and the rest of our group were rallying before the show. You see, Jaime hardly recognized me. In stark contrast to the unwashed degenerate who awkwardly giggled over Space Ghost quotes in her apartment, the version of me who walked through the door that night was squeaky clean and styling, shaven, and even brush-toothed.
The concert was totally awesome. I nudged my way to Jaime’s side at the beginning of the night and never left it. We danced like epileptic hippies after a counseling session with Hypno-Toad and a steamy pot of Jamaican Blue Mountain (that’s coffee, people). Jaime later told me she was totally oblivious to my advances, but even so, the evening, in my opinion, was a complete success.
On the ride home the group decided to have a slumber party at Ben’s house. The plan was for everyone to go home, dress in jammies, and return to Ben’s place for a night of video games, truth or dare, mud masks, and whatever else goes on at slumber parties.
It never happened. Only one person showed up- Jaime. And by the time she made it back, Ben and his roommates were all in bed, fast asleep. Jaime and I found ourselves sitting across from one another in Ben’s front room, unsure of what to do.
We forced our way through an awkward conversation. The longer we talked the more engaged we became. Soon we were completely comfortable, disclosing information beyond what our brief history together warranted.
We stayed up all night. No- there was no hanky-panky, just a tickle fight. At about seven in the morning we forced ourselves to get a little rest. Jaime and I lay next to each other on the floor and drifted off.
A short time later my screaming bladder forced me back to consciousness. I stumbled to the bathroom in a sleep deprived stupor, found my way to the toilet, and hovered over it listening to the low, soothing rumble of my personal little waterfall.
I got the weirdest feeling. I became intensely dizzy and nauseous. My ears rang loudly and my vision started to close in on me. My body got heavy and weak. I was sure I was going to fall.
My plan was to make a quick switch from standing in front of the potty to sitting on it. I figured that if I was sitting down I could lean my head on the sink and allow the head rush to run its course. I steadied myself against the counter, pinched off the flow of pee, and made my move.
I woke up on the bathroom floor. Pee was everywhere. It was in the toilet, on the toilet, soaked through the toilet paper, sprinkled here, puddled there, soaked through my pants and shirt, and dripping one echoing drop at a time into the drain on the bathroom floor.
It took a minute for my brain to process the scene. Then I panicked.
First I “borrowed” two towels hanging on the towel bar and used them to wipe the toilet, sink, cabinet, and floor (Sorry Ben and Mike- I didn’t have the heart to tell you). Next I replaced the toilet paper roll with a fresh one from under the sink. Afterwards I peeled my warm, uriney clothes from my body and threw them, along with the pee towels, in the wash. Luckily the washer and dryer were in the bathroom with me.
When I was satisfied with the condition of the bathroom I took a quick shower and rinsed off. However, I realized when I got out that I had nothing to dry myself with or to wear. I tiptoed completely naked and dripping wet into Ben’s bedroom, dug through his drawers, and retrieved a pair of basketball shorts and a well worn pair of old boxers (again, Ben, this is probably the first you are hearing of this, and no- I never returned your underwear).
I scrounged a towel from somewhere and finally snuck back over to my spot on the floor next to Jaime. As I shimmied next to her I couldn’t help but laugh at myself and this whole, crazy ordeal. I wondered how Jaime would react if I told her.
I nudged her until she woke up. She looked over at me a little confused and probably annoyed. I said I just passed out and peed myself. Then I proceeded to tell her the whole story, verbatim as it transpired, right down to the stolen knickers. She laughed like an idiot.
After we calmed back down we snuggled up and stole another half hour of sleep before it was time for me to switch the laundry. Laying there next to her, having just survived a deal breaker of a story, I was certain Jaime was the one.
Isn’t that crazy? That is how I knew?
This is our seventh Valentine’s Day together. I still do dumb things. Some of those things still consist of various bodily excretions, voluntary or otherwise. Jaime still laughs. She takes it all in stride.
I love Jaime very much. She is to my life what luscious fjords must be to the country of Norway. Valentine’s Day, I am pleased to say, is no more special to me than any day before or after it, because every day spent with Jaime is, to me, a very special day.
I love you, Jaime!
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