I was the new hire at JCPenney, working in the fragrance department. I had just graduated from high school, and was ready to fulfill big dreams. Upon clocking in, going on break, and clocking out, I had to walk through the young men’s department; where he worked. Spiky black hair, deep brown eyes, an infectious laugh, garnished with a studded belt and a leather wrist strap. 

I don’t know if the traditional version of love at first sight exists, but I do know that I felt something when I locked eyes with him. (Uh, yeah, Chelsey, it’s called lust.) No, it wasn’t. The thoughts running through my mind were not, “Omg, he’s so hot!” There was a strong spiritual pull, and I had to get to know him.  

For the first several weeks all we exchanged was a smile and “Hi.” Then one day he stopped me. “How do you say your name?”

“Chelsey.” I looked down at his name tag: GERSON. I was screwed. My rudimentary high school Spanish had not prepared me to even begin to attempt a correct pronunciation. “How do you say your name?”

He smiled. A wicked glint in his eye. “Try.”

I stared at his name tag. “Gare-sun?”

He chuckled. “Close. It’s Grr-sun, rhymes with person.”

The correct pronunciation is actually hare-sone. When Gerson was in kindergarten, his teacher called him “grr-sun” and he stuck with it.  

The summer was almost over when Gerson overheard me talking to another coworker about college preparations. Gerson butted into the conversation in what I would later learn is his personal brand of teasing. “You’re going to BYU?” His tone came across as incredibly judgmental. (You see, in Utah, you either love BYU or hate BYU.)

I might have put my hand on my hips. “Yeah. Do you have a problem with that?”

Gerson laughed. “No. I go to BYU, too.”

Shortly after that, he learned I was 18, and I learned he was 24. We almost stopped pursuing one another, but we couldn’t stay away. Plus, in our shared religious culture, that kind of age difference isn’t a big deal. I technically asked him on our first date, but I brought my friend as a third wheel so it wasn’t a real date. I wanted him to ask me on our first real date; and he did, a couple days later. 

From that second date on, we ate lunch together on campus every day. We spent every free moment together. We fell in love fast and hard. Even then, I didn’t think we should get engaged for at least a year. I was barely 19, had big dreams for my ballroom dance career, and he was six years older than me. Gerson agreed because he didn’t want to push me and lose me, but he was ready to marry ASAP. 

Gerson went home to California for Christmas, and I was miserable. When couples spend time apart, one of two things happen: “Absence makes the heart grow fonder” or “Out of sight, out of mind”. Luckily for us, the first one happened. When Gerson returned to Utah to celebrate New Year’s with me, I told him I had missed him so much that I didn’t want to wait a year to get engaged. I wanted to marry him as soon as he wanted. 

Telling my parents was really scary. I talked to my mom first. I started crying and asked her if she and my dad would support me if I married Gerson that year. She hugged me and said, “Of course!” She talked to my dad privately and he called Gerson and I into his office. (The fourth bedroom in our house, full of storage boxes and a card table with my dad’s desktop computer and my mom’s sewing machine.)

“Mom said you two want to get married.” His facial expression was neutral. 

My heart stopped. Gerson and I looked at each other, panic in our eyes. “Yes.”

My dad smiled. “It’s okay. We’ll support you.”

We did things a little backwards after that. We picked the date and booked the venue before he officially proposed, but the ring was on its way. We knew we were going to get married. 

Gerson had one more fun conversation to have with my dad: the traditional asking for permission. They were watching sports (probably Football considering it was February) and my dad was grading papers (he’s a high school math teacher). 

Gerson cleared his throat. “I don’t know if Debbie told you, but the ring arrived.”

My dad nodded. “Yeah, she told me.”

“And I know I’m supposed to ask you permission…”

My dad leaned back and chuckled. “I have always told Chelsey that I will never tell her who to marry, but I will tell her who to not marry. And I haven’t told her to not marry you.”

Gerson nodded. “Thanks.” And they went back to watching TV.  

He proposed on the banks of Utah Lake, where he had asked me to be his girlfriend five months prior. It was Superbowl Sunday, and I felt pretty special that he missed the beginning of the game to propose – though he would later admit it was because he didn’t care about the teams playing that year. Still, it was a great day, and February is a special month for us. 

I may have been young. We might have dated for too short a time in the eyes of many. But thirteen years later, I don’t regret it. We have a beautiful family. We support one another in our dreams and desires. And we love each other.

This post is the first of several other Real Life Romances to come during this month of love. New authors, new stories each post. Check back Friday February 3rd for the next installment.