#billyfjones

I have never met anyone like my husband.

I realized this morning, and this may seem quite obvious to others, but I genuinely admire him. 

When we met, I may have judged a book by its cover. Which is ridiculous because it was at a bar during an "80s Prom" and he was definitely dressed for it. Sunglasses on, inside and at night. A cut-off Misfits tshirt and what looked like a dozen gold chains around his neck. He had a bit of a stubbly mustache growing in and a drink in his hand. We were introduced and shook hands. I thought he was a tool.

But then I could not stop thinking about him. He was with a friend of mine and we live in a small town. How had I never met him? How had I not heard of him?

A couple weeks later we were at an art show for that same friend he was with when I first met him. It was the last week of my first year at Whitworth. Finals. I was stressed and down to the wire and felt like I was having an overwhelming, crushing anxiety attack. I had even called my mom on my drive to the coffee shop that was hosting the show and she calmed me down. She is so good at that. She told me to take a deep breath, have a drink and take it easy. My studies would be there waiting for Saturday morning and I could really buckle down. But she reminded me that I needed a break.

So there I sat, beer in hand chatting with several people because about half my circle of friends at the time were at that show. I soaked it in and took a deep breath. Then I noticed Billy, that guy I had met a few weeks prior, sitting across from me. I think we said a brief greeting but he was playing on his Blackberry and so we didn't talk much. I could not help but sneak glances at him. To say he intrigued me was a vast understatement.

I left not long after. I had dinner plans and raced to the other side of town to attend them, wishing the entire night that I could have stayed. The next morning I woke up, made coffee and prepared myself for a long day of sifting through research for my paper that I had been compiling over the last few weeks. Depressing. It was perfect weather that day and the cloudless sky beckoned me from the windows. I got onto my Macbook and logged into Facebook. And I had a message. From Billy.

I can't remember exactly what it said although I'm sure he does. He remembers everything from the beginning including what I was wearing on which days. I found out later that he could not remember my name the night before. He was hoping he would overhear it during one of the various conversations I had been having. The whole time I was mentally ridiculing him for being glued to his phone at a social event, he was trying to figure out what my name was. He went through our friends' pages on Facebook trying to find me. I'm not sure how he did it, but needless to say was persistent. That first message set off a conversation that lasted all day while I was trying to get my work done. I kept logging back in to my account and checking my inbox.

We met for coffee sometime that week or the next. Through our messaging, we discovered we had quite a bit in common. There's a book, a collection of zines, that I have read by Al Burian, Burn Collector. I have an undying love for this book. It's obscure and last I checked, particularly hard to find. Billy owned it and had read it. So we met at a café in downtown Spokane, he ordered a mocha and a Pepsi. We talked. He drew me a map of New York City and the five burroughs on a napkin and promised to take me there one day. We watched interesting people walk by down the alley, countless men with their shirts off despite the fact that it was only about 70 degrees out. We kept trying to wrap up our conversation and then we would get going on a differnt topic.

Over the next few weeks, we went and saw a movie, texted Aesop Rock lyrics back and forth, met up at outdoor shows. We enjoyed one another's company. And that's it. It was all platonic. Yes I was interested in him and I could talk to him. But at the time I was in a relationship that was coming to a long overdue close. Billy was a complete gentleman.

This entire post has gotten off the topic. So as I got to work this morning, I was thinking of my husband and how not only was he my best friend and the love of my life but that I do admire him as a person.

He is a natural leader and has a charisma that you may hear about from time to time, but you never get to see in person. People gravitate toward him. There have been numerous times when we are out and about and come across a wretched server or a grumpy cashier and all Billy has to do is ask them how their day was and POOF!, we have a lovely, good-natured person to deal with. When I was pregnant with our little lady, I was 17 days late. As we approached the two week mark, my midwives started talking about induction, risks, etc. and I panicked. I would call Billy sobbing because I didn't want to be induced and I felt pressured into scheduling it. He would calm me down and give me a game plan that usually included Sweet Frosting cupcakes as soon as he came home from work. He was in retail management for 10+ years and he was stellar. He's a problem solver and organizer at his core. Billy is actually good at anything he tries, but these talents are at the heart of his success.

And I admire that. Especially because a little over two months ago, he put in his notice with his retail. And he took a big chance. He started school last week, a barbering program at one of our local cosmetology school. Billy already has a job lined up (overacheiver?!?) but here's the thing. He had never cut or styled hair before. Not once unless you count his own.

He is a natural and he loves it. I admire him for taking a risk to do something for himself. This is such a big change especially when he is used to being the teacher and not the student, the leader and not the follower, and the breadwinner and financial support for us. But he is already so much happier! I am ecstatic about the lack of stress I've seen on his shoulders these past weeks and about what this means for him and for us going forward.

Congratulations Billy.

Love,