The Dave You Don’t Know – Winner of Last Week’s Poll

Valentine’s Day is coming up soon – a day where the romantics among us fawn over one another with gift expressions of heart shaped everything, stuffed animals, flowers, jewelry, and *hinttomylovinghusband* a pair of Toms.

There are also the cynics. I’d estimate that between now and Valentine’s day, I will hear no less than ten people comment on Valentine’s day being a scam of the greeting card industry, created to make single people feel (usually here they place some big word that nobody knows or some extreme hyperbole that nobody in their right mind would actually believe unless captivated by the spell of said cynic) so that they will feel like they have to find someone with whom to share this holiday and go out and spend more money.

Who cares? Really? Are we really so hip, now, that we are going to complain about a specific day set aside to celebrate love? Give me break!

So what does this have to do with the Dave that you don’t know? I’m getting there, but I have to rewind a bit.

You see, everyone knows (or thinks they know) a “Dave,” and I don’t mean a “Dave” in name (although everyone probably does know someone named Dave). Everyone knows someone who, on the outside, appears to be extremely reserved, shy, somewhat aloof, kind, etc. And that’s most people’s first impression…and second…and third…impression of my husband.

When I first saw Dave, in May of 2004 he was walking out of an interview for a position at what would be his third school of his teaching career. I was walking into an interview for what would be a position at my very first school. And although my boyfriend of five years was sitting in the parking lot waiting for me, I felt no shame in my mental observation that anyone with eyes could see that the man who just left that conference room was…well…HOT. In fact, by September, every woman in the school was googly-eyed over Dave, and he didn’t seem to notice.

We choose most of our friends, unless you fall victim to somebody, like me, who chose you. Yes, I’m one of those types. “You will be my friend, whether you want to be or not.” I believe those were my exact words in an instant message that I sent to Dave one day in September while our students were taking a test. Okay, so I am not Miss Manners. In fact, my mom made me take etiquette lessons when I was a kid. She jokes that she wants her money back. She once bought me a t-shirt that said “Charm School Drop Out.” I just didn’t care for the prissy side of life. I was friends with mostly guys, and by the time I hit adulthood, I could fire off some zingers that would make a sailor blush. It was how I knew to communicate with guys.

But when I did this around Dave, he didn’t laugh. He would give me this look that confused me. It wasn’t like he was offended, but more like during all of that seemingly “shy” time, he had really been observing. Like, he saw something inside of me that didn’t align with the abrasive personality that I learned to wear. Like he was disappointed. When I recognized that it was not discomfort but disappointment that I saw in his eyes, I finally realized that one of Dave’s character traits was not reservation as I had originally believed. It was observation. It was wisdom.

The relationship that made up a quarter of my life ended in February of 2005, one week before Valentine’s day. But it would take another year for me to catch a glimpse of yet another side of the real Dave.

I should note that February 2005 to April 2006 was a vivid mess. But that’s a story for another time…one that I may or may not ever put into writing. During that time, I was in a relationship that was about fourteen months too long. As I actively worked to unravel all that was good and meaningful in life, Dave watched, as observers do, and (I now know) patiently waited for the time to come when I would realize that I had not lost but hidden my own brain from myself.

The week of Valentine’s Day, 2006, Dave and I stood in the office of our school, standing across from one another at a desk intended for greeting visitors. Strewn across the desk was a bunch of rubber bracelets (think LiveStrong style) that with the words “Hug Me,” “Kiss Me,” “Be Mine,” “I Love You,” etc. scrawled across the bands.

“Thwap,” I felt the red bracelet thump my shoulder shortly after leaving Dave’s fingers, which were pointed like a gun the way that our students do when they shoot forbidden rubber bands at one another. Knowing that he had not read the bracelet, I glanced down, then looked at him and said in a snarky tone, “Aw, you need a hug?” and outstretched my arms.

Then, Dave surprised me. He looked down, fumbled through the bracelets, selected another, and shot it right at me, hitting me in the head. “Hey!” I shouted back, laughing at the precision of the shot. But being smacked in the head wasn’t what surprised me. I knew that Dave picked this band, on purpose. Remember, I was the one with a mouth that could make a sailor blush, but I was the one blushing when I read, “Kiss me.” I shot Dave a look. He smirked, and then he turned and walked out of the office, without a word. Did Dave just flirt with me? Yes! He did! And there was nothing aloof about that. I thought, before, that Dave maybe didn’t know what to say to a girl. As it turned out, Dave knew exactly what to say to a woman, and I knew how to talk to a boy…but not a man.

At the same time, my relationship was headed downhill faster than an Olympic skier on a double black diamond. About eight weeks later, in April, I ended things, and although I was very happy and relieved by my decision, I was absolutely terrified. I wanted to be the person that I knew that I was created to be. I didn’t know where to start, but I was unwilling to share that with anyone else.

The next day, at work, I checked my mailbox. The book that someone had placed inside of my mailbox was titled, “Fresh Faith.” On the inside cover, my friend, whom I had told had no choice as to whether or not he would be my friend a year and a half before, had written a note. He let me know that this book helped him to get through a tough time in his life. He hoped that I would enjoy it, and he was always there for me if I ever needed anything.

I must have read that note one hundred times that day, and a hundred more in the days to follow. In fact, writing about it makes me want to go back and read it again. I was moved by the warmth and kindness in that note. This was not the writing of someone who was reserved. In this note, Dave stepped out from behind the curtain, and what I saw was strength, courage, and wisdom. Even more amazing was my realization that God was not waiting for me to find a starting point to make my way back to Him. He was there all along, and He was using His children (this one happened to be HOT!) to reveal his plans for me. I even read the whole book, which is quite impressive for those of you who know how many books I start and never finish. (And I want to be a writer???)

It was not long after that that Dave and I started dating. From the first date, we both knew that we had found “the one.”

By August I was insisting to my friends, who were thoroughly confused as to how a loud mouth like me ended up with an introvert like Dave, that Dave is a total goof.

“Did you see the size of that chicken?” he would scream at the top of his lungs as he entered my apartment. What chicken?

“I went running tonight, and I saw four elephant-rhino-cracker-dogs,” he would begin during our dinner conversations. He would try to use an accent, but, like his father, every accent in Dave’s repertoire sounds like Sean Connery.

We were engaged from November of 2006 to June of 2007, when we married. This year, we will have been married for five years, and Dave still cracks me up. My favorite is when he takes an original song (Lady Gage – Bad Romance) and makes up the lyrics for his own song (I need some gloves, yeah, and I need them right now be-cuz my hands are froze) then sings them until they are stuck in BOTH of our heads and we can’t stand ourselves and must turn on the radio to listen to something, anything, to drown out the Dave Original.

Dave also dances like a gorilla, a trait that he has passed down to our son. When the two of them get going, I nearly pee myself laughing….which may have to do more with the fact that I have given birth than how funny it actually is. I also nearly pee myself running, sneezing, coughing…thinking.

The Dave that you think that you know also names cars on the highway, and refers to them by these names when he then talks to the cars. A car with an Arizona license plate, for example, might be referred to as, “My dessert friend, who thinks that the speed limit is 20,” whereas a car with I <3 my chocolate lab bumper sticker might be, “Lab Lover,” to whom he might instruct, “Okay, Lab Lover, stay in your own lane!” When all else fails, he names the car based on its color or make. This is especially efficient when he has a lot of cars that need instruction or motivation. Once a teacher…

The Dave that you think that you know is also extremely analytical, especially when it comes to television. Dave does not like when the puzzles in Wheel of Fortune are placed in ill-fitting categories. “Really? How is that People and Places!” And don’t even get him started on Conda, the bratty Red Team contestant on this season’s episodes of The Biggest Loser.

And all of this…I love. I love that my Dave is bold, strong, analytical, fiercely protective, kind, wise, ever so patient, random, funny, and that he is a Godly man. I love the love that he has for his family and for our precious child. I love that my son will grow up with an amazing example of what it means to be a man of God.

Cheesy as it may be…created by the greeting card industry and all…Valentine’s Day provided the very first outlet for the love of my life to show me a side of him that I never knew. And I will happily indulge in any holiday that is devoted to celebrating love.

Who knows…I may even buy a card!