Haute In Texas

The very first time I celebrated the birth of one Mr. Orlando Mendez-Valdez, I was a freshman in college, and he was my (totally hawt ) boyfriend.  We had officially been a couple for all of two months, and barely knew each other’s middle names, much less what our future would hold.  I remember that all-too familiar feeling when thinking of a present: what would send the wrong message, what would be too serious, what would signal that I don’t care about him THAT much.  The day was fast approaching and I was still at a loss for a gift.  Then inspiration struck.  He had just gotten a new car, and had been talking about putting a new stereo system in.  Of course, we were both poor college students so we didn’t have all that much cash lying around.  Thus, I would need to be thrifty or eat ramen noodles the rest of the semester.  It turns out Wal-Mart of all places sells stereo systems, and I picked out the one with the cool flip up screen.  Because I’m a chick and I know nothing about stereo systems.

The day of his birthday, Orlando got hit in the face by one of his teammates at basketball practice and busted his lip open.  Sweet birthday, right?  He called me to come meet him at the dentist office since he wouldn’t be able to drive after the numbing medicine and stitches.  Being the trooper he is, he still wanted to have dinner afterwards, so we headed off to our then favorite spot, T.G.I. Friday’s.  Busted lip or not, he was determined to still devour his go-to meal, the Cheesy Cheeseburger with cheese on top.  And then some cheese on the side.  Just kidding, that would be ridiculous.  I remember hysterically laughing as he tried to fit his swollen, bloody lip around a burger the size of his face.  Then trying to get him to stop laughing so he wouldn’t bust open his stitches.  Then laughing at his face trying to stop laughing.  Anyways, there was a lot of laughing going on.

Once we made it back to the dorm, I decided it would be the perfect time to deliver his present.  As he ripped open the package, he realized the gift and started to smile as best he could with a mangled mouth.  His reaction sounded something like this, “Uhhhhh, ma guud, is uhmassing.  Uh caaaant bulieve you gut ma stureo fur muh cur! Shank you sho mush!”  I’m sure those weren’t his exact words, but the combination of medication and swollen gums made for more laughter, more tears of joy.

Now six years later, the same stereo sits in his same car and reminds me every time I look at it how young and crazy we were.  How much we’ve grown since then, and how much our relationship has deepened, matured, strengthened.  We still laugh like mad, don’t take ourselves too seriously, and hopefully we’re raising Cora to find someone just as special some day.

I love that Orlando appreciated that gift, and that it didn’t matter it was a cheap Wal-Mart system.  I love that he has humble roots, and that no matter how far we’ve come in six years, he hasn’t forgotten them.  Back then, he didn’t care about his lip or his own problems.  He’s still like that.  Always taking care of everybody else, making sure we’re safe.  He played this entire basketball season with a dislocated finger because his family needed him to play.  He wakes up at 5 in the morning when Cora won’t go back to sleep because he knows I have work in the morning.  He tells me all the time to do whatever makes me happy, to go after my dreams and goals because he has so much faith in me it makes me want to cry.  And then he does something stupid like eat a burger with stitches in his mouth and makes me cry with laughter.

I love you, Orlando.  I hope your birthday is full of love and laughter.  Just not stitches this time.

XO,

A

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