A Sure Fire Way to Lose a Boyfriend

So one week after Valentine’s Day…here goes…

We learn from our mistakes when it comes to questions of the heart. Well…maybe they weren’t mistakes. I guess in the final analysis, we just weren’t meant for each other. (read on)

My first love, I met in Michigan while going to school. He was a gift giving fool and made me the most beautiful gifts, sang with a guitar, not to mention he wrote the most wonderful letters. And so I reciprocated. I knitted him a sweater the summer we were apart. He was in MI and I was at home with family, waiting tables at the Holiday Inn during the summer of the moon shot. I chose a gray/forest green weave in the yarn appropriate for our MSU colors. I used a knitting book that my mother had to choose a cable knit. Yep…I could count stitches and in the hours I spent on that sweater, I could watch a lot of TV and think of him. If I do say so myself, it was a beautiful sweater. By October, it was ready for his birthday. He was surprised and yes, he wore it. But that year also marked our break up. Awkwardly, as I worked the cafeteria line after the “break up” I noticed he still wore “the sweater” as he passed through the breakfast, lunch and dinner line. I wanted to just die!

Then, I grew fond of another guy. He majored in French and took me out to eat often at a place called “Old World” just off of Grand River (near campus). Again, I reciprocated, but this time I chose something less ambitious. The knitting needles got larger and the garment, smaller. I knitted him a vest with a few words in French knitted into the border. It was tasteful and subtle and it took me only a term of the first trimester to complete. I presented it to him around Hanukkah. He wore it during winter term, spring came and he moved back to his home state upon graduation.

My senior year, I met a fun-loving guy who played saxophone for our university jazz band. He insisted I attend his performances and so I did. By then the knitting needles became “logs”–size 32– and I only knitted a scarf, but it was a looooong scarf. I think I was able to knock it out in two days! We were not in a relationship as fb terms it now, but we enjoyed each other’s company. Graduation came and we never kept up. End of story.

When I met Rick, my family warned me. “Don’t knit him anything!” I never did. No chance. For one, he was a “dyed in the wool” Texan (sorry, couldn’t resist the reference) who never got cold and would never be caught in anything wool even during deer season. Yep…we have made it some thirty-five years with no knitting involved. No, I haven’t knitted much since those years, but we have knitted some wonderful times in TX.
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I do love to cross-stitch, like these blocks for grandson #2.

Counting the weeks to spring break when I can play with him and these blocks

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So as I wind up this post, I ask myself. Where should I categorize this? Why Texas of course, where the story ended up.

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