I met my husband in a bar. That used to embarrass me until recently when I admitted that to a group of women and they exclaimed: You are walking proof that you can meet men in a bar! Cool men! Men you can marry! YOU ARE HOPE! Indeed I am.
We met in a crowded bar and struck up a conversation while rubbing elbows and sharing table space. We hit it off immediately. The whole reason I talked to him so much was because he was crammed up next to a woman who worked at the same company as I did and I thought they were together, although I was thinking the whole time oh my god he's so beautiful. What a lucky girl.
While we chatted it up my best friend and his best friend made idol obligatory small talk to pass the time. My friend had recently gone for a daring short new haircut (one which was not exactly flattering and one that after a respectful amount of time had passed, was referred to with much laughter as the dyke-in-headlights haircut.) To be fair, she's not a lesbian, but you might have wondered and his friend took things a step too far by asking if she were sexually repressed. Thats when she had enough and announced that it was time to leave. Having known my future husband all of one hour and her for many years, I begrudgingly followed after her, but not before asking for a business card. The next day I called his work phone number to listen to his voice mail. He sounded nice. I emailed him. We exchanged messages. I gave him my phone number. We talked on the phone. I thought it was strange that it took him a few days to actually ask me out. I didn't find out until later that the reason was because he needed a few days to break up with his long time girlfriend.
I refused to sleep with him on the first date but I did let him walk me up to my apartment, things heating up with every step closer to my door. I sent him away but when he kissed me I knew he was the one. I had dated my fair share of men, I was well acquainted with infatuation, this was bigger than that. In my minds eye I saw us on our wedding day, me in a dress, the two of us together. I just knew.
One of the things we had in common was a love of traveling. We both wanted to go back to France and we made a plan. Every Sunday night we would deposit two twenty dollar bills in a jar in his kitchen cabinet. A year later we went to Paris. By this point we were inseparable, madly in love, but we never discussed marriage. It still seemed early for us to take that step, although I knew it was just a matter of time. The first day we arrived in Paris I thought, just maybe, maybe he would propose? He never gave me any clues that he might. We never talked about rings, plans. I thought I knew him and thought I would be able to tell if that were in the works. He didn't propose the first day. I decided to forget about it and enjoy Paris, my favorite place in the world. He proposed on the second day.
We were here, at Sacre Coeur, in Monmartre. He didn't exactly ask, he handed me his sunglass case and told me to look inside. He had been carrying it around for 48 hours. I never had a clue. We went to a cheesy touristy place to drink wine, eat dinner and soak it in. I ordered some kind of chicken and if you've ever been to France you will know, it's not the same as ordering chicken here. What I ended up with was a plate of what we remember as chicken nuckles. Horribly disgusting- but who cares, we were in Paris, we were in love and we were getting married.
Our wedding was a year and some months later. We got married in a small town near where he grew up. We made my best friend and his best friend stand up together in the ceremony. Her hair was much longer and that whole sexual repression thing had been resolved. The wedding was everything I had imagined it to be.
Marriage is not always what I imagined it to be, it's harder, our lives have become more complex, it's not just about the two of us anymore. Still, every day, no matter what, it is what I pictured in my head on our first date. Him and me together. Happy Anniversary Baby.