Next up, Heather!

Today’s guest is Heather.  You can find her blogging at Mama Sass (and she’s totally rolling her eyes right now).

Here’s here take on the question…

Since hindsight is 20/20, what is the best “mistake” you’ve ever made?

Thanks for joining in, Heather!!

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At eighteen, I had it all planned out. Don’t we all? Two years of college, marry high school sweetheart, finish last two years of college, start career, first baby by 24. Stop laughing.

Yes, even at 18 I was highly type A.

At the end of my senior year, I had three college choices. A private school in Oregon (Monica Lewinsky went there!), a state school about four hours away from home, and another state school right in my hometown.

A rational person would have chosen to leave home. Go somewhere new. Have some meaningful and interesting life experiences.

But come on, did you really think an 18 year old would make the WISE decision?  Um, yeah. That’s a big negative.

So, I stayed in my hometown for college, to be with my boyfriend. And we all know where this is going.

About halfway through our sophomore year, he started acting funny. And hanging out with a couple of other girls. A lot. I was suspicious, but if I brought it up I was ‘crazy’.

Lo and behold, on New Year’s Eve (I KNOW!) 1997, he broke up with me.  On the phone. While he was at a party. With the other girl.

I could have taken this break as an opportunity have a fresh start in 1998.  Instead, I took another route. I went insane. As in, I’m going to sit in my tub for three hours in freezing water listening to Sarah Maclachlan crazy.  Looking back, I’m pretty positive that I most definitely could have used some meds. It was bad. Embarrassingly so.

Once I pulled myself out of the mud, which took some time, I managed to have some semblance of a normal life. I went to work, I went to school, I pulled decent grades. But I was stuck in this small community where I constantly had to deal with the fallout of my former relationship. It sucked. Hard.

All the while, I’m attending this college where I don’t really fit in, and pursuing a major that in retrospect, was a huge error in judgment. English? Really? English degrees are good for two things. Teaching and … um… okay, one thing. And I’m not a teacher.

But, here’s the good part. My silver lining.

On my first day in the dorms, my roommate’s twin brother brought his roommate over to say hi.  That roommate and I became close friends.  We’d lose touch, but whenever we’d see each other, it would be as if no time had passed at all.

Did I mention he was cute? Cause he was.  But I never thought I was his type. We were just friends. Plus, he always had a girlfriend, or I a boyfriend.

After spending a year abroad in 1999-2000, I came home to finish my degree, graduating in spring of 2001.

The day after graduation, I packed all my belongings into my crappy old white Jetta and moved to the city.  Okay, a suburb.  Whatever.  I had my B.A. and nothing was stopping me, no sir! I was going to get my dream job straight away…if that job meant waiting tables at Red Robin (a.k.a. The Dirty Bird).  Yeah, things just don’t ever work out the way you plan…

Right after September 11, 2001, I got a call from my old friend from college.  He had run into one of my old roommates at a club and asked for my number. He lived just about 5 miles from me and wanted to get together for a beer.

I agreed. I had just been dumped, again (do you see a pattern here?) and it sounded really good to go catch up and have a shoulder to cry on.

After hanging out a few times, we went out and drank a little too much. Okay, a lot too much.  And it was that night that he confessed that he’d had a crush on me since we met and itwouldmakemereallyhappyifwecouldbetogether.  Yes, that’s how he said it. Really fast.

I told him I needed time to think. I was in shock for a couple of days. I mean, do I go out with him, and ruin our friendship, or do I NOT go out with him and ALSO ruin our friendship.

So we went on a date.

And now, almost eight years later, we are married and have a beautiful child.

So, the moral of this story? Even if you make some hideously stupid decisions, there may be a happy ending in it after all.

If I had run off to hang out with Monica Lewinsky in Oregon, I would have never met my husband.  My teenage romance mistake turned into something wonderful.

And if you would have told me that while I was in the tub listening to Sarah, I would have thrown my scrunchie at you.