French Fries and Sweaty Palms

Shortly after we were married, Nathan and I were delighted to discover that we were compatible in a very important matter: french fries. Our preferences were (and still are) completely complimentary: he prefers the crispy fries, and I prefer the softer fries. This means, then, that every box of fries is completely enjoyed. None go to waste or go unappreciated. There are no longer any lonely, crispy bits of fry left in the bottom of my bag. We are frymates. We used to joke that our complimentary french fry preferences were proof that we were meant to be.

This week is O-week at Rice, when all the incoming freshmen and transfer students get introduced, oriented, inundated, and matriculated. And ten years ago this week, in the Baker College Commons, Nathan and I met.

He spoke to me first (who was I, a junior transfer student, to associate with a lowly freshman, after all?). He asked me if the "BU" on my shorts stood for Baylor University. Surprised, I said that it did, indeed. I asked him how he would have guessed that, and he said that his dad taught at Baylor. We only spoke for about two minutes, but it turned out to be the very beginning of something big.

Three and a half years later, I stood in the narthex of a beautiful church, getting ready to walk down the aisle and get married. At this most inconvenient moment, I was hit with a wave of anxiety so sudden and strong that I felt like I might pass out. I had to squat down and get as close to putting my head between my knees as you can in a giant ball gown. My mouth went completely dry. I weakly smiled at my dad, who was ready to escort me down the aisle, and I tried to figure out why in the world I was so anxious. Then a thought occurred to me that calmed me down a little bit: "Just think of Nathan, at the other end of the aisle. He is my home." And at that moment, I knew it was true, and it helped calm my nerves. When we finally joined hands a few minutes later, I found that my hot, sweaty hand was being cooled by Nathan's freezing hand. Lucky for me, it turned out that he was dealing with a nervous, cold sweat while I was dealing with a nervous, hot, I-might-need-to-ask-my-maid-of-honor-to-go-get-me-a-chair-before-I-pass-out sweat. In the end, we evened each other out.

See what I mean? We compliment each other in lots of ways. We go way beyond frymates.

Nathan, I'm glad you asked me about my shorts ten years ago.