How We Met, Part 2

(The end of October marked 16 years from when I met the man who is my husband, G. We join the story, already in progress.)

So, there we were, G and me, picking out songs on the jukebox and hitting it off. We talked with my friend A, who’d encouraged me to introduce myself to G. Another friend of mine, C, joined the conversation for a bit*, then moved on. I found out G was: 23, living with his parents, had recently given up on grad school, was selling insurance for a company with a cult-ish sounding name. He found out I: recently started grad school, was 27, was leaving in the morning to visit my sister who lived in Nashville, had a tough week of papers coming up in school. The night wore on and he had a 45 minute drive ahead of him. He asked for my phone number; I gave it to him. He tried to say his goodbyes, but my friend A, fearing he’d leave without being suitably impressed by me, offered to buy him a beer. We reassured her he’d gotten my number, so she allowed him to leave. I returned to my apartment that night and stayed up for another hour emailing my sister about the cute guy I’d met that night even though I’d be seeing her in mere hours, and thus arrived in Nashville a few hours later, cross-eyed from lack of sleep.

*G told me later he’d been flirting with C and me. What I knew at the time that he didn’t was that C preferred tall African-American women. He had no chance with her, so it was good he thought I was cute, too.

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