My life is perfect
My wife and I met when we were in high school. She was a cheerleader who was also a track star. A full 5’6 with reddish brown skin and black hair that she would occasionally dye blonde for cheerleading season. Her body was mostly legs, and she got her first tattoo junior year of track season, a small grizzly bear and I’ll never forget it because when asked about it she said it meant she was protective over what was hers, but didn’t want to fight. An embodiment of her fierce no-nonsense ideology and she wore it well. Of course, since she was two years older than me, she never gave me the time of day so back then all I could do was stare from afar. I got caught almost every single time because I didn’t know when to stop looking, and her friends would always laugh at me, giggling telling her that she had a secret admirer. She didn’t find it funny at all since she was always being stalked by boys at our school and grown men who couldn’t cut it with women their own age. She was constantly bragging about those men though; something about an older “established man” taking time out of his busy day to dote on her was only something girls her age would dream of. During baseball season I would always be as close to her as I could without getting caught. I would go watch her sprint until her practice was over. Sometimes when they were down a couple people, due to illness or athletes having to catch up on their schoolwork, they would recruit people watching to hold blocks and best believe I did not need any convincing for that job. If I’m honest I know that was creepy of me, but I couldn’t help myself.
