Choices....

Well, today is DH's birthday.... Happy birthday to him!... Cradle robber...LOL

I figured that if I was to get married, I would have married someone around my age.  I really doubt that a 5 year difference is all that much, but when you get this crazy notion that there is a partner for every person, it makes you wonder...

I have heard stories, albeit really sappy ones, about a boy knowing that this one girl is going to be the one he marries from just one look.  I seriously doubt that looking at a baby is the deciding factor in your "soul mate", but there have been stories of mere children, too young to know better, making that decision.  While some did happen, others were forgotten once something better came along.  Now, I am not saying that DH picked me out of a lineup of babies when he was 5 years old and made that decision... because it was not like that at all.  Here is my little story of how I became his wife.....  Just if you were interested in knowing...LOL

In September of 1995, I was going through a nasty breakup of sorts and decided that I needed to clear my head by going to have a beer or two.  A fairly new bar was in my town and figured that it was as good as any to give it a try.  I really did not want to run into anyone I knew because it was my chance to sort my thoughts on my own.  As I am not a huge fan of "meat market" bars, I came upon what I thought was a sports bar.  Watching sports while unwinding with a beer is just what I needed.  Well, it was a sports bar and a meat market in one, but I already got my beer and a spot at the bar, so I decided to stay.

Out of the corner of my eye, I manage to see a group of guys walk in.  As I am trying to ignore their entrance, I hear one of the guys try to order an Old Style.  As I gagged a little over his request, I could not help but giggle.  This guy was quirky beyond all recognition.  As he proceeded to rib the bartender over the fact that their establishment does not sell what he considered, "the champagne of beers"and that he "guesses" he will take a MGD, he notices my giggling.  Now, he could have considered me a mental case because I was not giggling with a friend, but his curiosity got the best of him and he took the seat next to me and started asking questions.  My only reply was that he just made me laugh because I thought Old Style was (in the cleaner of terms), "pee water".  As we played the semantics game, bantered back and forth, and laughed some more, I get the bar stool kicked out from under me.  Stupid me had the habit of wrapping my legs around the legs of the stool and fell over, being caught by some mini body builder that asks me if I like short guys.  I did my best in telling him, "no" and realized that this little fiasco was just what I needed to get my head on straight.  My sarcastic wit kicked in and "Mr. Old Style" (as I called him), and I bantered back and forth.  Laughs took over and he decides to offer to change the oil in my car for me.  He proceeds to tell me that he owns a garage in Palatine (my hometown) and figured he would at least get to see me again.  Thinking this is some lousy attempt at a pick up line, I took his business card and forgot about it.

Weeks went by and somehow "Mr. Old Style" seemed to show up everywhere I was.  Thinking I was being stalked, I confronted him and learned quite quickly that he was not, but he was glad that I had such good taste in drinking establishments.  After roughly a half a dozen attempts to get me to take my car in to get the oil changed, I caved in and decided to let him do that for me.  Even though I already knew how to change the oil in my car because of my admiration of my big brother I learned how do that.  I did look up to my brother for a lot of things, but I doubt he really ever noticed.  Thinking that "Mr. Old Style" was no threat, I figured that he has been a good friend and only wanted to help.

After quite a few beers on a Friday night, we agreed to get my oil change the next day.  Being one to keep my promises, I dragged my hungover self to his garage.  "Mr. Old Style" was dragging his heels to get there and saunters in looking for coffee.  He looks up and sees me standing there with one of his employees and announces the obvious... "You look like crap".  My reply was, "You don't look much better".  And there it is....  I get an oil change and an honest "compliment", if you want to call it.  The rest was filled with laughter, his clumsy antics and a proposal that I accepted.  Well, that is... until the "I do's" were exchanged.  Being married changes the dynamic of the friendship we have.

I do have one corny thing to share.....  When I was waiting for him to get to the garage and change my oil, his employee that was there did share one thing with me.....  The day after he first met me and kicked out the bar stool from under me... he was kicking himself.  He told this guy that he met the woman he wants to marry and kicks the stool out from under her.  He thought he "screwed the goose" when he did that.  I can only gather that he was quite relieved that I have a sense of humor because I did marry him.  If I didn't, it can only make a person wonder where my choice would be.

I just feel sorry for our daughter because the days of romance and sweeping a girl off her feet did not apply to the story about how her parents met.....  Well, I was swept off my feet.  Just not in the conventionally romantic way....

Thanks for reading....