A Random Romantic Tale About Me, Chup & Kissing Germs

Eight years ago, in the summer of 2001, Topher invited Chup to come to his piano recital at my parent's house. I had met Chup six months before and had decided to marry him, but he really didn't know me very well. Small complication.

After the recital guests socialized and ate baked refreshments. I invited Chup to the backyard lounges to get away from the noise. Always ready to leave a party, Chup took my offer.

We sat and talked about perfect futures of family life. I told him my vision of a big kitchen with a wood fire stove. A sturdy, industrialized family table to host dozens of visitors all at once. A regular night where my husband and I cooked for the neighborhood. An open home both in form and function. Chup listened to every description I painted, until I came to the end when he said,

"And my trusty truck in the driveway."

(And that is when I knew I had him.)

After several nights of acting coy I finally let him kiss me. Our first kiss wasn't worthy a blog post, it was uncoordinated and--may I say--disturbing. (It was symbolic of our commitment levels at the time. I went for passionate, while he went for hesitant.) But in that moment, I passed on to him germs from my hiding fever blister. A generous gift, because Chup had never had the virus before. Days later we wore matching bumps on our lips.

It was official!

Chup was never the same after that night. In the next months he suffered recurring blisters which would curtail our chances to be affectionate. (Safe, considering we were two Mormon singles trying to stay chaste before marriage. Ahh blessings in disguise!) When married, Chup continued to be plagued while I seemed to be cured.

Until today when I noticed a bubbling fever blister riding on the surf of my bottom lip. I studied it carefully in the mirror, making it protrude with the use of my tongue. Then the familiar soreness and cracked skin appeared after breakfast.

It was official.

I tried not to let the obvious growing lip guest get me down. I dabbed it with our special solution and pretended that my bottom lip didn't feel like it was expanding like a batch of Sunday dinner rolls. But you can't fight the common fever blister, you just have to wait.

So I waited. And waited until Chup came home from work. I waited for him to take off his motorcycle helmet. I waited to tell him the horrid news. But when I started to tell him, I noticed he had one too. Twin fever blisters, an anniversary gift from eight years ago.

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