My girlfriend recently complained that I don't mention her very often on my blog. I am still under the impression that she doesn't even read my blog, but to test my hypothesis I will dedicate this entire post to her. If my girlfriend has a mixture of rage at the mention of her middle name and joy at my sweetly sentimental sap then I will know that she actually reads my blog. Otherwise I can continue to leave her conspicuously absent from this area of my life . . . If you just read that, Laurianne, I was joking.

Laurianne Armel Munezero was born on August 16, 1983 in Bujumbura, Burundi, the eldest of four children. As a child, Laurianne grew up speaking Kirundi, a Niger-Congo language spoken by both the Tutsi and the Hutu in Burundi (who, incidentally, also share the same culture.) When she began school she learned French, a Romance language spoken by Francophones. This means that Laurianne is tri-lingual and that her boyfriend, John Paul den Boer, must suffer in monolingual agony while she chatters away with friends and family, his name popping out recognizably every few minutes.

I will learn French.

I met Laurianne when my mother asked if I could give my sister and another girl a ride to their youth group. One thing led to another, and eventually I was a permanent volunteer for that particular job. I thought Laurianne was beautiful and I enjoyed talking with her. After several months of having known eachother, Laurianne asked my sister to subtly hint that she was interested in a date.

Here is my sister being subtle: "Hey John, Laurianne wants to go on a date with you!"

I said yes and began brainstorming for the perfect date. A good friend from work gave some valuable advice. He knew me well and told me that if I didn't want an awkward date I would have to keep talking. Now, that means saying intelligent things, not the first thing that pops into my head so I knew it was going to be difficult. Fortunately, the only thing that went wrong on that date was that I locked my keys in the car and had to force the window open while Laurianne stuck her arm in an attempt to unlock the door. Now, that mistake would have been understandable if I had not left the car running the whole time. Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! (picture Chris Farley hitting himself in the forehead a la Tommy Boy )

Not a good start to the first date but Laurianne laughed it off and we've enjoyed three years and four months of eachother ever since.

Laurianne is about a head shorter than me. She has a beautiful smooth face and gorgeous brown eyes. When she walks, she walks with dignity and pride, with the regal bearing of a princess. Although she humbly dismisses it, her great great grandfather was a king of many lands in Burundi. What a wonder that a woman with such good posture would deign to give her attention to a man with such bad posture.

Laurianne's voice is soft and kind, like a warm gentle breeze. Her attitude is often the same, a gentle warmth and friendliness that extends to every person she meets (unless they prove themselves unworthy.) Don't be fooled into thinking Laurianne is all sugary sweetness because there's a spicy side to her. Laurianne once kneed a fellow in the balls when he got too fresh with her. And never ever think she's soft because she's far from it. That warm gentle breeze can become a torrential downpour of righteous rage. The thing that sucks is that she is, in fact, hardly ever in the wrong (I'm not saying that because I'm whipped, I'm saying that because she is, in all actuality, usually in the right.)

Laurianne, ndagu kunda cane.