And I most certainly did not want to go skiing with two girls I barely knew. But my father cajoled and so I went.
Those two girls spent most of the evening gushing about some guy they knew from the gym who also skied often. They didn't know his name so they just called him "Hot Guy". (People, I could not make this stuff up if I tried.)
If you are wondering how awkward it would be to stand for 45 minutes at the bottom of a ski lift with two girls you barely know waiting for them to introduce you to some dude you only know as "Hot Guy", the answer is: Very Awkward.
But I did meet him that night and four months later, Hot Guy and I were engaged.
Today is our ten year anniversary and I love him more now than ever before.
Which only proves that God writes the best love stories.
Happy 10 year anniversary, Baby. You're still my Hot Guy.
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