Remember when it was OK to use the term "mack" as a verb?

Mercy, he is cute.

Rbf's friend Lucky emailed me tonight with some letters he found from my man back in the first few months he was dating me. The world is portrayed in, ultimately, two ways:

The Way Girls Talk About It On Their Blogs (Click Here to read such insight, on our hallowed bananaversary)

and

The Way Guys Talk About It To Their Friends. (See below for the counterpart to such insight)

If you didn't follow the bananaversary link above, my question to Rbf was this:


"I have silly questions, too. Like, I've always wondered if you remember that night with the pie the same way I remember it. Sometimes I'd talk about it, and you'd always make some joke and be all inappropriate and poke me in the rib and laugh. (So no, you don't remember it how I remember it, because I get misty eyed when I remember it, and you seem to only remember the juicy stuff, and talk about scoring on me and whatnot, which does not make you misty eyed. Scoring on my fine self should have EVERYONE misty eyed. It's a magical thing, homie)."




Well, Lucky gave us all the answer! Behold: Reboyfriend version. In Reboyfriend's handwriting

From a letter dated November 19th, 2000.





I blurred out the poor other girl's name since you never know if it might bug her to stumble across her name on my blog. Never know who's reading. Seems I meet someone new every now and then who's been reading (Hi Christina!). (Anisa! I still owe you a letter! Four pages to be exact, full of loving thank yous!). Blur-name girl irritated me, naturally, since back in November of 2000 I was even more immature than I am now and wouldn't have liked ANYONE who would have dated Rbf right before he met me...even if her fate was some oneliner in a missionary letter while I was the CHOSEN one who got MACKED. (It was the year 2000, and you were probably still carrying a beeper or something so cut him some slack). Sorry blur-girl.

I also cropped out the part about getting his pilot's license and getting A's in O-chem and stuff, even though those were both huge deals at the time, which I fondly remember. Kinda funny how that brought back so much. I remember giving him his favorite treats in care packages on his bed before his mid-terms for those classes, then reading about the grades he got, almost ten years later, and welling up about it. It must have been those yogurt raisins I left him. :)

This letter was obviously written to a missionary, which meant that it was about 2 years before I was even able to meet him. I eventually did, but never got to know Lucky too much. Even still, he took the time to scan these and email them to me because that's how cool he is. THANK YOU, LUCKY!!!

I write this blog pretending there are *5 people that read it so that I don't censor anything. I hope it doesn't seem too blasphemous to put images of Rbf's handwritten letters online for the world to see. At some point I might go private but in vintage Kirsten style, I'll wait for a regrettable, preventable incident to happen before I make that judgment. In any case, this beautiful creature's take on our first hookup was pretty precious for me to read yesterday.

*(I still try to pretend Rebrother-in-law, Chris, doesn't read it, but if any member of the Mingo clan could handle my potty mouth, it's Chris or Kenny, so hallelujah for us having them!).

Note: Tomorrow is the 7 month anniversary of the accident and yes, I will be notifying you on the 7th of every month, how long it's been since the crash. Because it's my way of bragging. I am prouder of myself with each month that passes, for living through it this long.

If I miss it, I'll notify you every 10th of the month on the anniversary of us finding the plane, and the 18th of every month how long it's been since we buried them. So you don't miss ANYTHING! :) I love you guys.

{The two lovebirds a few months after the letter was written.}