Once upon a time, a lovely and charming young lady was out for a night on the town with an equally (or perhaps more so) lovely and charming friend, a regular girls’ night out of which they partook every so often. (OK, here is where I admit I’m not about to keep this up for an entire post, so I’m sure you’ll all be shocked to discover that said girl is me.) (Also, hi, Kathy!) Mostly these nights were spent dancing without worrying about anyone watching (under the influence of a nip or 2 of an adult beverage), since this wasn’t exactly your typical hipster bar. In fact, I’m pretty sure I was among the youngest 2% most of the time. Not quite a pick up scene, you know? We were there for the music anyway, and had a mighty fine time, thankyouverymuch.
This particular night, we were happily hanging out when a man approached our table. Seeing as my friend was married, she made some sad excuse and exited stage right. I figured, what the hey, let’s see if I can get a drink out of this, as it might be the only opportunity given the clientele. I then proceeded to spend the next half an hour being regaled with stories of his future motor cross career, world travel, and unemployment status. I must have dropped my poker face, because suddenly another guy appeared over my shoulder, shoehorned his way into our conversation, and exactly ran Mr. Motor Cross away within 10 minutes. I immediately thanked my savior and we spent the rest of the evening making bar talk, meeting each other’s friends, and damaging our ear drums sitting too close to the speakers.
As the evening wound down and it was time to head home (at the incredibly late hour of 11PM, since we were such party animals), our groups said good night to each other, and he… left. My friend and I just stared at each other. He didn’t even ask for my phone number. I thought things were going well, but maybe not. And I didn’t even know his last name.
Cut to a few months later, and I’m back at the dive when Mr. No Name shows us. Lather, rinse, repeat from the previous evening, including NOT ASKING FOR MY NUMBER. I sat there astonished for about 5 minutes until he came back and gave me his business card. Seriously.
That should have been it.
But it wasn’t.
Despite the cheesiest of meetings, we never looked back, and here we are married almost 9 years and not at all sick of each other. He’s stood me through medical scares, family deaths, and my own chronic stressedouttedness (yes, it’s a word). We have the best little monkey children in the entire world, and he can drive me crazier than anyone else past, present, and probably future. I can’t wait to see what’s next.
Happy Birthday, Hub. You deserve it. Hope the lobster wasn’t too gummy.
No comments:
Post a Comment