I’ve never really been that great with people, at least long term. At each point in my life there has been a person, someone I can talk to and joke about things with, but then life moves me along and that person fades away. Typically they are people at work, work friends. Because you spend so much time with people at work and you have a lot to talk about because they’re around you 8 or so hours a day. Unless you work at Disney or a certain other company and you’re around them for 10-14 hours a day. At that point they might as well be your emergency contact because you see them more than your family.

I’m not good at keeping in contact with people either. Some people meet people at work and they become friends for life. They have teachers they talk to, managers they go back to for guidance. I am the best at being invisible in groups and disappearing when the moment is over. Honestly, I don’t even try, it just happens. You know that part in The Princess Diaries where Mia is sitting on like a bench or something and someone just sits on her because they don’t realize she’s there? That’s basically me.

I accept this. Don’t worry.

Actually, this got really sad really fast. What I’m trying to lead to is how I met Marc. And not just the, ‘Oh we met at Disney World.’ ‘Cause that’s the short version that’s so sweet it makes people gag.

Back to my issue with people, though.

I went to Florida for my College Program in August 2007. I had big dreams of working at the Tea Cups or being one of those people that carries around the balloons. I ended up being placed in a park I didn’t even know existed (this was before things were really all over the internet, I did NO research), working retail (merchandise, merchantainement – Disney speak) at rides I was too scared to go on, and wearing the most uncomfortable/hideous outfits I had ever seen (I hadn’t see those DAK outfits yet, YIKES), and each outfit had a bowtie. I had never experienced Florida heat before, and had no idea what the humidity would do to my hair. Can we go back to Princess Diaries one more time? Think of her hair before they made her look pretty. That’s right. That’s what happened.

So let’s recap, ridiculous outfits and Princess Mia’s pre-princess hair. I was miserable.

I’m going to bypass the part where I called my mom and she wouldn’t let me come home. I’ve talked about that enough before.

Everyday I would take the College Program bus from my apartment complex to Hollywood Studios. I had my car, but this was when Bush was president and gas was like 5 dollars a gallon and I think I was only making 6 dollars an hour or something. The bus was free. Do that math.

I didn’t really socialize during my training. Or at all. At this point I was counting down the hours until my shift was over or the number of days left until my program was over and I could go home.

Then, one day, as I was standing in the photo area forcing myself to smile (it was exhausting, I have resting bitch face and it takes a LOT for me to look like I’m not about to cut someone), this guy walks by in the male version of the ugly outfit I was wearing, and he waves. I looked around, thinking he must be waving at someone else. But there was no one around me. We had never met. My judgmental self immediately labeled him as weird. People being nice to other people for no reason? Unheard of in my mind.

A few days later, there I was, back behind the photo counter again, acting like I was loving everything about this ride I never went on because who the fuck purposely gets on that elevator to be dropped like 10 times for FUN? Not me, thanks. There this guy comes walking out from the back stock room. Stands next to me and starts chatting away about how he hates getting morning shifts and he usually works Fantasmic at night. Wtf bro, we are not friends. I hate life right now, can’t you tell? Is my fake smile that is killing my cheeks really that convincing? Must have been, ‘cause he didn’t leave me alone.

That same day while I was sitting in the break room watching High School Musical 2, he strolls in and starts chatting about going to this comedy club at Downtown Disney with his roommates. Zac Efron was singing Bet On It. This guy asks me if I want to go with him. I told him fine, but that needed to be the end of the conversation because again, Zac Efron was singing.

What I’m coming down to is this guy, who really is the sweetest, nicest, most chill person I have ever met, ended up becoming my person. Not just a work person, or someone who was around for a little while because I needed them to be my partner for group projects at school, like he stuck around. I’m sure you’re wondering, “Why the hell would he do that, she’s such a bitch?” Trust me, if I knew I would explain it to you. If we’re going to be super real here, and have a real moment between be and whoever is reading this, like two days before our wedding when I was freaking out because the families were coming and would be meeting for the first time and my face was broken out so bad and I was having anxiety attacks multiple times a day, I told him he could run if he wanted. Seriously, he deserves someone WAY better than me. Someone who he doesn’t have to convince on the way driving somewhere that yes, all the electronics were indeed turned off before we left the house. “Don’t you remember, you checked them all five times?”

Relationships in my family aren’t the best, and I was convinced I was going to ruin everything.

He didn’t run, yet I continued to push. I begged and begged for him to let me get a dog. He said we really weren’t ready for something like that, but I wouldn’t let it go. So one Sunday he took me to the dog shelter and I picked out a dog that was against every rule that he gave me. But I fell in love with the little Chihuahua mix that I’d named Oliver, with his skin problems and his kennel cough, and he let me adopt him. The first year we had Oliver was one of the hardest years of our marriage. Marc wanted to take him back, he was too out of control, too high maintenance, and we didn’t have the time.

But I was so stubborn, and Oliver was mine, and I would call Marc at work crying because Oliver was so bad on his walks and I was scared that someone in our apartment complex would complain and that Animal Control or something would come and take him away. Marc would sigh, and tell me everything would be fine. Then we would continue looking for trainers and working with Oliver as a team. Because Marc was my person for life, and now Oliver was my kid.

10 years later and we are our own little team. Marc and my Oliver and my Mr. Rabbit aka Boo Boo aka Bunny (you realize how all the pets are mine?) I was never looking for any of this, but then it happened and sometimes things are hard and change is scary, and we’re just trying to figure it all out.

I’m happy he waved at me, and gave me a reason to stand behind that damn photo area and genuinely smile while wearing a hideous outfit, with Princess Mia’s pre-princess frizzy hair. Are you gagging yet? Good.

Ya know, just one more fun story. Last night, as I’m in the kitchen carrying around a huge tub of Cool Whip, eating it with a spoon like it was ice cream, as I sometimes do, Marc strolls in to make something to eat. He stares at me, then at the Cool Whip tub. He then walks over to the cupboard, takes out a container of mini chocolate chips, walks back to me, dumps the chocolate chips into the Cool Whip container, and smiles. I stood there baffled, “Dear God, why didn’t I think of that?”

Because that, people of the internet, is how it should be.

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