We met nearly three years ago on this exact day. I was 20 working as a waitress trying to pay my way through college on tips I earned at the local truck stop. Mr. Stetson Hat, which I lovingly refer to my husband as, came in to the truck stop after filling his three quarter ton Dodge diesel with gas. I must say, I noticed his truck before I ever noticed him. Brand new, shiny with chrome on the wheels, a fancy looking horse trailer hooked up behind it. I've always loved horses, but growing up, my family was too poor to ever afford to keep many.
Then...I see him. As my gaze fixates on the man stepping out of the truck, my breath catchs a little. Men like him are ones that just aren't interested in girls like me. His boots are covered in dirt, his jeans hug his buns perfectly, and his dirty white t-shirt is snug across his perfectly muscled chest. He's tall...maybe 6'4. After he finishs filling his truck up with diesel, he opens the door and walks inside the truck stop. He pays the cashier for the gas and asks for a couple of crispitos. He takes those and a fountain Dr. Pepper over to one of the old booths. Loudly, Wanda, the truck stop owner beckons me to go clean the restrooms. Embarassed I walk by this hot man trying to remain unnoticed. No such luck. I fail to notice a small amount of water on the floor and fall flat on my butt. Being the gallant man he is, Mr. Stetson Hat hurries to my side and helps me up. Our eyes meet. It's love.
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