I refused to admit he was my boyfriend until he drove 11 hours in the middle of the night and surprised me in my Journalism 101 class with cake and a goofy tie.
I also refused to date anyone, let alone someone long distance, but there I was mailing a flat rate box in the bottom of my school union to my “boyfriend” who lived 11 hours away. We mailed the same exact box back in forth to each other for a year. The final time it made a trek through Mississippi, Alabama, Georgia and Florida, the post office attendant scolded me for bringing such a shambly box to her. I begged for her to send it just one last time, she obliged as she wrapped the entire thing in tape and said, “This is the final journey.”Read More