Everyone keeps asking about Gunnar’s and my courtship, and how we met, and who said, “I love you,” first, and it’s like OK… give me a second; can you let us breathe?  

Just kidding. Three people have asked, two of which are 40-year-old male coworkers.

Something that is kind of fun and painful to know about Gunnar and me, is we have the DUMBEST courtship story. My fault.

There are so many individual stories, like the time he tried to show off when we first dated and broke his elbow. And then I didn’t talk to him for three months and forgot about it until 7 months later.

Or how my niece always asked about “Gunna” months after meeting him—months after Gun and I stopped dating. She’s been convinced we were soul mates since that two-hour meeting nine months ago.

Or the time his nephew told him Gunnar should marry Sarah because, “She’s a girl.”

I cherish all these stories. But perhaps my favorite story to tell up to this point is the moment Gunnar told me he loved me for the first time.

Because it was soooo romantic.

Oh, wait. No it wasn’t.

Gunnar and I weren’t dating when this happened. In fact, I had just broken his heart for at least the second time the week before.

COOOOOOL I suck.

 I was on a date with another guy. A guy I really liked. Not just some first-date, this-is-a-nice-meal-date.

We went out to dinner, and all the sudden, I got a huge stomachache. I went to the bathroom, sat on the toilet, and as I was playing with my phone, (whoopsiesss), I saw Gunnar calling.

I let it go to voicemail.

HA yeah right, I’m way less classy than that.

Instead, I thought, “Hey, Gunnar’s calling! I better pick up. On the toilet. While I’m on a date with someone else.”

I answered, “Hey, Gun! Sorry, I’m on a date right now. And I’m actually in the bathroom and saw you were calling. Aren’t I the worst? It’s fine. What’s up?”

On the receiving end I heard a voice from Gunnar that I had never heard before. It was quiet and sullen. I got real scared real fast.

“Gun, is something wrong?”

“Um… kind of. I’m just debating if I want to say this right now, or if I should just wait…”

“Hmm… well I’m dying of curiosity. But it’s up to you…”

“OK, I’ll be fast. Sarah— ” And he was off. I don’t remember all that was said. Maybe at all. But what I do remember is him saying, “blah blah…. I am so in love with you….”

And he’s still talking.

YOU’RE “SO IN LOVE” WITH ME? I sat bewildered, my eyes even more huge than usual with my pants around my ankles, as my date waited outside the bathroom door.

My response went something like this: “Uhhh… Oh my gosh. I feel so awful. I’m in the bathroom, Gun. Actually, I’m on the toilet. OK? I’m on the toilet. These conversations don’t usually happen on a toilet. And I’m on a date with someone. Also these things don’t usually happen when you’re on a date with someone else. I’m totally panicking. Ahh. Uhhh. Uhhh….”

I ended up telling him I loved him three months later while he was talking about the never-ending benefits of bailing twine. (Never-ending benefits of twine? Confused? Yeah, me too.)

I then found out the next morning that he was under the impression that I said the “L” word first. Absolutely not. Turns out, his mind put “toilet time” in a box and stuffed it way in the back of his head where the rest of us put matrices and math proofs, and certainly not confessions of love.

Anyway. No one really knows how it worked out with Gunnar. It’s a dang miracle is all I can say, and I thank the heavens above the Man above us loves me enough to let us get married.