This post probably isn't about what you think. I'm not gonna ramble on about HQN plotlines today. I'm going to tell you the story of how my life became a HQN plotline. I make the joke often enough, and then it occurred to me that this is a story worth telling. It'll also let you get to know me a little bit better by the time I'm done. (Don't worry, I'll skip the sad and/or boring parts.)

I was born in a small town in Indiana and grew up with the usual amount of dysfunction. When I was seventeen, I went away to college. I studied English Literature. I intended to teach, but halfway through my student teaching, I fell ill and had to be hospitalized. They wouldn't let me return to student teaching, due to the missed days, and I couldn't afford another semester without working. So I dropped the Education degree, graduated with a Lit degree that qualified me to do jack shit and went out into the world to look for work.

Around that time, I moved to Indianapolis, which is a big city by most Indiana standards (unless you happen to live in NW Indiana near Chicago). In classic writerly fashion, I held a series of crappy jobs, most of which I didn't stay at for more than a year. Let's see, I worked as a daycare teacher, a retail clerk at Sam's Club, and a voice actress, just to name a few of my gigs. By 24, I hadn't really gotten my shit together, but I had a decent job at least, one I liked fairly well. I started working at an animal hospital as a receptionist but before long, they made me office manager. It was a small clinic and I was in charge of all the HR stuff, hiring, training, evaluations, firing, scheduling, overseeing client appointments, all that jazz. Sometimes it sucked being around the sick or injured animals, but I do love animals so overall I enjoyed the work. I'd always wanted to be a writer and I still messed with it some at night, but I was nowhere near ready to do anything with it. I was still reeling from having my stuff subbed in NY at 21 and hadn't recovered from the rejections yet. My writer-skin was baby soft back then, ya'll.

So my social life was nonexistent. I had a few guy friends, but they were stoners I had to throw out of my apartment after a while because if I let them, they'd turn my house into a hippie crash pad. I don't make friends easily, and even back then, I was much more likely to stay home after a long day's work than to hit up a club. Ya'll are gonna tease me about what's coming next, but I don't care. I'm coming out, dammit!

Back then, I socialized mostly on AOL. There was an RP channel (no, not "spank my ass, I've been a bad monkey" type RP either) where I liked to hang out. Not as myself but my online persona, a character if you will. Syn was tall, wore leather pants and carried a silver knife around that would've made anyone think twice. She was slinky and dangerous; she'd kill you as soon as look at you. Reminds me a little bit of Danny Valentine, now that I think of it, from Lilith Saintcrow's books.

I wrote all kinds of stories with a wide variety of people whose names I didn't know in real life. Adventure stories, fantasy, sometimes romance. Man, that was fun. It wasn't to please the market or anything; it was just for the pleasure of it. Well, eventually, Syn got herself a love interest, a mage (think White Wolf Mage). Eventually I started talking to this guy OOC (out of character) too. I started getting to know him.

His name was Andres, he was nine months younger than me, and he lived in LA. He was attending Pepperdine University at the time, or he had just finished up there. I can't remember which. He was originally from Mexico, and his family still lived there. We got on real well, and I'm not embarrassed to say we were totally crushing on each other. Oh, we tell people who can't handle an 'online' lovestory that we met in a bookstore, but I'm not shamed to say how it really went down.

We talked online for about a year, I guess. In April (he's an Aries) of the next year, he begged me to let him come see me because we were nuts about each other by then. I was a little bit nervous (massive understatement) but I said okay. I made chili for him and baked him a chocolate cake. He said both were the best he ever had. He spent the weekend at my place, and I'm not gonna write a whole lot about that, except to say it was smokin' hot.

In August of that year, he moved from LA to Indy to date me. He started school at University of Indianapolis, doing a masters in international business. I didn't know anything about his family. He didn't really talk about them. I assumed (somewhat stereotypically, I admit) that he came from a poor(ish) Mexican family who would be happy if we sent money home so they could eventually join us in the States. I didn't worry about whether they would like me or how they'd feel about their son seeing a white girl.

He went home periodically to see them, but I never went. The trip would've cost me a lot and I wasn't making tons of money, although that changed when I went to work for the phone company. In that job, I made 50K plus including sales incentives. I hated it, though, it was soul-killing. I worked in a cubicle, all that. I supported us while he went to school.

We were together and happy as clams. A few years down the line, my dad died. I remember Andres asking me about a condom, and I was so messed up in the head, I ran the numbers and did the math wrong (I suck at math anyway, never mind when I'm grieving). I just wanted to forget for a while, so we went on and did it like crazy love-hungry fools. I came up pregnant in a few weeks.

I called him from work to tell him. He got real quiet and asked me, "Are you sure?" like ten times. It must have scared the shit out of him. There was no question that we'd raise the baby together, and we made it official when I was six months pregnant. We eloped to Vegas and got married.

I still hadn't met his family, though. When you have a small baby, the last thing you want to do is get on an airplane and take a long flight. Andres called them once a week, though, so I assumed they knew about us.

Man, was I wrong. See, he never mentioned his wife or family when he called home. He says he didn't know how to break the news over the phone and the longer he waited, the harder it got. Plus, they were estranged. He'd rebelled against working in the family business and run off to the States.

Yep, you read that right. Family business. It was years before I knew the truth. Far from struggling, his folks belong to the upper class. They own a pharmaceutical company that makes medicines for the social security program. They supply government contracts. They're like the Eli Lily of Mexico in some respects.

Mind you, our son was fifteen months old by the time I found all this out. He didn't warn me, the first time we all came to visit. I walked into his mother's home, this gorgeous place with marble floors, chandeliers and stained glass in my grubby jeans with toddler drool on me.

That's when I realized I hadn't married a poor college student after all, but an heir to the dynasty pretending to be such. Andres still likes to brag, "I so got you and I didn't even have to flash my checkbook either." You can imagine this led to some trust issues, though, because that's a huge secret to keep. I understood why he didn't mention it at first; he couldn't be sure I wasn't some golddigger, but after I had his child, you'd think could've clued me in, no?

We've put each other through some crazy soap opera shit that I won't write about because it's sad (and real life sometimes is), but we're still together after ten years plus. And I love him. His parents were a bit cool to me for a while (I think maybe they didn't know what to make of me or this white girl their precious boy had gone and married without their approval) but we're getting past that as well. We moved to Mexico City two years ago, and I imagine this is where I'll be for the rest of my life. It's been weird adjusting to what is definitely a privileged lifestyle. I had no fucking idea what to do with a maid when we first got here. I'd run around cleaning up before she arrived because I didn't want her to know what pigs we are. Andres found that hilarious. I've adapted, though, and put down roots. I'm slowly making friends.

I hope you feel like you know me better now and you're glad you stopped by. What about you? How'd you meet your man?

Labels: about me, real life romance