Typically, I write about my kids or the crazy things I experience. I got the feeling my husband was feeling a little left out when he asked, “So, where am I?”
Well, dearest, here you are.
My husband and I had a fairtytale beginning when we met almost 14 years ago in the basement of a fraternity house. Amidst the haze of beer fumes, I noticed him tending bar and thought, “Hey, this guy doesn’t look like a total douchebag; I think I’ll talk to him.”
One thing led to another, and I found myself inviting him upstairs to hang out. And drink kool-aid.
Seriously. It had been a long night and I was thirsty.
We had a long intellectual conversation about current events. Or we made awkwardly made small talk while mooning over each other. One of the two.
The point is, we parted ways that night without an exchange of phone numbers. Frankly, I was pissed off. We had a beautiful night of kool-aid and conversation. Didn’t that warrant him asking for my phone number? Apparently not.
According to him, he was trying to be suave and he planned on asking his roommate, who was dating my roommate for my number. I thought I had been mistaken in my assessment that he wasn’t a douche. So you can see how well his ploy worked out.
He finally got his head out of his butt and called me. He asked me to go to his date party with him, and for some reason I said yes. It must be because he is unbelievably gorgeous. I can’t resist him.
I prepared for the big night with great care. I picked out an ensemble that was sexy, yet casual, since we were going to a place that had a field, bonfire and barn structure for dancing. I show up, and he has a pelt for me to wear.
Did I mention the date party had a Viking theme? Yeah. And who is going to say no to their hot date when they ask them to wear a shapeless, grey pelt on top of their sex kitten outfit? Not this girl. I threw that pelt on like it was me who suggested wearing it.
Here I am, proudly pelted and making the rounds with my date’s friends. He goes to introduce me to one of those friends, and calls me, “Erin.”
My name is not Erin, it’s Carrie.
Not only have I been pelted, but I’ve been called by the wrong name. The whole hot and adorkable thing he has going on might not compensate for this.
What he said later was that he was bad with names. He thought my name was spelled Keri. And when my name didn’t immediately leap to his lips, he said all he could remember was “Eri” and thus, my name became Erin. Uh huh.
The date got better after that. It had to, right? We had great conversation, we danced and snuggled by the bonfire.
Later, we found ourselves dancing with other people. The guy I was dancing with was behind me when I felt him reach around to my front, and grab my boobs.
What the hell? I have now been pelted, called by the wrong name and felt up by one of my date’s friends.
I was a little tipsy, so of course I reacted very calmly. I ran in the general direction of my now husband, slipped in a puddle of beer and slid shin-first into a table. I thought I had broken my leg.
Are you keeping track? Pelted, name forgotten, felt up, and bruised.
I didn’t tell my husband about being felt up until after the date was over because I didn’t want to stir anything up.
I want to slap my younger self. I didn’t want to stir anything up? After the night I had, I should have stirred the pot, brought it to a boil, and then broken it.
Obviously, I found it in my heart to have a second date, a third date, and a lifetime of memories with him. Mostly because he’s hot, but also because he got rid of that ugly pelt.
Ponies and Martinis 
Awwww! This is such a cute story!
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Thanks!
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Admit it. If you had the possibility to time travel, you’d go right back, swap the kook-aid for martinis and put a mammoth bone in your pocket to brain the boob-grabber. That would have saved you the fall and given a strong message to hubby : this girl don’t take any s*** 🙂
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That is true! I can always learn a thing or two from your ballsy-ness. Also, I think I’d do just about anything to avoid that shin bruise.
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ballsy-ness. Like. Adopt.
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A great how-we-met story … romance, fashion, a misunderstanding, an action scene … it has everything – including a happy ending! 🙂
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It would make a pretty good rom com. I’ll start the script today.
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So funny but too woozy to leave a meaningful comment 😉
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That’s ok. I appreciate the effort though 🙂
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And that’s how all love stories should begin: “Pelted, name forgotten, felt up, and bruised.” That’s priceless.
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It’s better than Cinderella meeting her Prince Charming.
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It really is.
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Ahhh…this is so lovely…..a less than auspicious beginning but at least you got alot out of the way first time out! A modern-day fairy tale!
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This is true! If I can survive that, the rest of the marriage should be a breeze.
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Aw this seriously had me chuckling into my coffee. Definitely a good rom com script missus 😉 xx
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I plan to have Reese Witherspoon play me on the big screen. 🙂
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Ah, I am a sucker for a good “how we met” story. Always so fun to read those glimpses into someone’s early dating days! 🙂 🙂
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Okay..as far as first dates goes..that is epic!
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Love this! (Because this date is so quintessentially, cringe-ably, recognizably college and also because my husband always asks why he’s not included in my blog.)
Totally made me smile. Thank you for that!
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Hilarious! I think I might have to refer you to the author of the move over Bridget blog as an example of bad date turned good!
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Oh! I like discovering new blogs. Refer away!
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