One hot summer day at the beginning of my Sophomore year of college, I dragged myself into “Masters Algebra” on the NMSU campus. I sat down, flipped open my book, turned to the cute guy sitting next to me (noticed he was wearing a pop bead anklet), and said “Whew it’s hot out! What page are we on today?” Cute guy gave me a once over, grumbled “ugh…i dunno” and I spent the next 55 minutes in that class watching him explain every aspect of Algebra to the super cute blonde girl that sat down next to him wearing a mechanic’s top with her name patched onto her very perky left cup.
That was how I met Jeff Forehand twenty years ago. The universe has a funny way of making sure that people who should know each other get second chances. And boy did Jeff blow his.   I wound up at a Halloween party that Fall, and lo and behold there sat Jeff! He (known as Lloyd) and his friend Scott (known as Stimp) were lurking on a sofa drinking dark beer and I introduced myself – OH YEAH You’re the new girlfriend they said (I had just started dating Holt and was deeply questioning his friend choices)…what is your name? Lori? Jeff and Scott then called me Lori for the next two hours.
Needless to say those two assholes became some of my dearest friends on Earth. I can’t get rid of them. I even tried moving to the other edge of the country.
JEFFREY, is one hell of a character.  Here he is in his natural state:

Jeff

He comes from a family of soccer hooligan boys from Los Alamos – where YES, there really is something in the water – he’s just different enough to be the most interesting man in the world. He doesn’t drink beer at 4 a.m. often, but when he does it is for Man U. He was a history major (Ancient Chinese? i dunno, Japanese is such a prettier history 😉 ) who went on to teach in Tuscon (and should teach again!) and then brought his darling daughters to Albuquerque where he carves wood and a future for them.
Jeff bleeds Aggie crimson. He taught me how to drink “the really good beer”…he walked into a party with  a six pack of Newcastle or Guinness, Taddy or Old Speck… he would bring Macanudo cigars and give us sips of some bizarre Russian liquor that his super secret international spy dad brought back from his latest mission.  He has the secret recipe for jungle juice.  He taught me not to cry when politically debating.  I was his wing-man for YEARS…I can’t tell you how many little blondes we hunted and caught together hahaha. Catch and Release Blonde Ambition Tour 1995 – 1998…
Jeff finally sat me down one day and made me an honest wing-man by giving me first peek at an engagement ring and getting my blessing…I should’ve been his best man (did you guys hear that?  That was Scott bristling)  He settled down but in the best of ways and though the wedding of the century ended, he has since shaped into one of the most attentive and wonderful dads that dad-dom can claim. He gives the best foot rubs.  He wears his family’s Scottish kilt.  When he says he loves you he means it. When he says he’ll be there, or do something, he does it. He is my Step-on dance partner. He is every 80’s song when it comes on the radio. He wears a candy-built necklace from his daughter that he will never take off.  He’s one of about five people in the universe that I will pick up a phone and call.  He is a consummate gentleman, and one of my absolute best friends, and even 20 years ago we realized we were just NOT nice people, and probably should stick together.

Today is your birthday, El Jeffe. Happy Happy Happy Birthday. All of us love you very much. And because of that I’m making this your dating profile on Match….kthxbyeeeee…… kidding.

But seriously, ladies…he’s a catch.

jeff2

(the patented Jeffrey thumbs up)