Dear Readers,
I am lucky to belong to an amazing Facebook group called Generation Fabulous, GenFab, or #GenFab, for short. And this week, I'm participating in this group's second blog hop! Our assignment is to write about how we met our spouse/significant other.
In addition to my post, you really do want to read the rest of the GenFab members' posts, which you’ll find listed at the bottom of this page.
************************************************************************
He was ON THE FLOOR in a BAR when I first spotted him.
Kneeling. (You sillies - what were you thinking!!!???)
He was KNEELING on the floor talking with two pretty girls who were sitting at a table in the country-western
nightclub that I managed. His long lanky
legs stretched across the aisle that was the main thoroughfare of the club. A few waitresses had to walk around him, and some customers in the dark smoky bar nearly tripped over the long legs that were blocking most of the aisle.
It was my job to tell him to move. He nodded good naturedly with that 'good ole boy' smile he has.
And then...he ignored my request. THE NERVE! (Did I mention that the two girls were VERY pretty?)
Argh. IDIOT. I went back over and told him to move his
legs out of the way.
Again, he smiled and nodded. And
again, he brushed me off.
I went back over and told him he had to move. NOW. Or he was
out. O*U*T - OUT. Leave. His choice.
Smart boy.
He moved.
He started coming in regularly to listen to the country
bands the club featured. We started talking. He had moved
up to CT as a teenager from his native Virginia. He pronounces his home state
in a soft slow southern drawl, "Vah-JHIN-yuh."
I kind
of liked the way he talked. Yup. Me, a born and bred New England Swamp Yankee.
I also kind of liked the way he was a true southern gentleman and never
said anything bad about anyone. And he was funny. REALLY funny! Quick witted and always making me laugh. One day, while a group of us were teasing him about the 'bald' head that he hid under his cowboy hat, he countered back that bald men have the
prettiest wives.
For some reason I thought about that remark a lot.
Whenever he came in the club I made it a point to sit and
talk with him for a while. We became
fast friends. And for some reason I start noticing that the bald men I saw around town actually did have REALLY pretty wives. Go figure.
Eventually, one of the customers at the club started dating him. I told her to be good to him and that I thought he was a really nice guy. A keeper! I told her not to screw this relationship
up. They go out a couple of times … but it never
leads to anything serious.
He continues to come in and we talk. One night he asks me if I’d ever like to go
out to dinner or something with him. Because I make it a habit not to date customers, I
say: "Sure. As friends, right?"
He nods, but never sets a time or place.
A few months go by and some of my friends start saying that
they think he likes me and that we should go out. I laugh it off and say, "nah." But secretly I’m thinking, "hmmm,
why not?" A few weeks later he goes away with some buddies for a short vacation.
I realize I miss
him when he doesn't come in that week. Really miss him. And when he returns I tell him so. But kind of casually. You know, like in a collective 'we' missed you this week. I think he takes it in a friendly
way. But he does ask again a little later, "Would you like to go out to dinner sometime?"
This time I'm quicker on my feet. I say: "Yes.
Thursday. Pick me up at seven."
We went out on that first date in September 1991 and got married five short months later in February 1992. Poor boy. He still doesn't know what hit him!
You see, I simply decided I wanted to be one of those pretty wives.
And the moral of the story? Marrying my handsome husband automatically made me one.
Read how some other members of GenFabTM met some of the people who became their other halves below...
Enjoy!
.
