Wednesday, September 13, 2006
How I met my honey...
Barb over at A Chelsea Morning is asking, and I am telling. Of course, as I prepare to wow y'all with the amazing tale of how I met my Rock Star, he is stuck in his undershirt. Yes, the man can turn my knees to jelly with a look, but he can not get out of his undershirt.
You know how when you were in college, there was that house which seemed to be a 24-7 house party? Yeah, well Jon and I met there. It was summer, and I was working at Service Merchandise with several of his friends. One night, after work, I ventured out to the "party house." Funny how seedy that neighborhood turned out to be-- I was so totally naive.
***** Mom, stop reading***** You have not heard this before******I'd like for you to hang on to your illusions*****
I parked my car on a side street, and as I rounded the corner I saw a few people sitting on the front stoop enjoying some adult beverages. (All of age-- at least these out here. I cannot vouch for anyone inside) Our friend Ari made the first round of introductions and then this wise-acre with a glass of whiskey in one hand (and a cigarette in the other) says, "Hey, you talk kinda funny. You got any Canadian in you?"
I kid you not. That's the first thing he said to me. And the heck of it is, I had NO IDEA it was some kind of joke.
"Well, I don't think that's why I talk funny, but as a matter of fact, I do."
"No. No. Do you have ANY CANADIAN in you?"
"Um, yeah, but I talk funny because I am grew up in Tallahassee."
"Noooo. Do. You. Have. Any. Canadian. In. You."
Ari decied to put me out of my misery at this point, interjecting that I had no idea what was going on, and that I did indeed "have some Canadian" in me. So, Jon was not going to get me with that joke. (At this point, I STILL had no idea what was going on, and I don't remember when someone finally decided to fill the poor little plaid skirt girl in on the joke.) Of course, as soon as I mention this to people, they get it. How did I make it to the age of 23 without knowing these things?
I saw him a couple more times that summer, but that was pretty much it. Nothing interesting, certainly not earth shattering. He picked on my musical tastes and remembers way more about that summer than I do.
Fast forward a year, when I finally gave up on the tiny country church where my parents live. I decided to go to a church in town where I knew a few people from Lay Academy. CUMC is the kind of place where, if you come more than once, someone is bound to ask you if you'd like to read, or pass out bulletins, or help the tech team.
In my case, since I wasn't a complete newbie, it was the first week. So I came early, and what do you know?! A familiar face playing bass. (And do I sound like a complete loser if I say that Jon was the first person to actually remember me from such brief meetings? I am not what one would call a memorable person.)
And he said to me, "I'll bet this is the last place you'd think to find me."
I wasn't really that surprised, but I was 18 months later, when he got down on one knee in the front of the very same sanctuary and proposed. Fourteen months after that, we sprung a surprise wedding on the same congregation.
So there you have it. Tales of our misspent youth.