Today's assignment is from Janet. Janet wanted to know the story of how we met our significant other/spouse or anyone else who had ever been our significant other/spouse. Well, it's in the court records that I am not allowed to talk about my previous so/s so I will tell you the story of how my current husband (yes, there have been other(s)) and I started dating. Not how we met, because that was just sort of ho hum. He lived up the street from my sister and my niece babysat for him.
This story takes place about a year and half after his so/s and her kiddos moved out.
Once upon a time, in a galaxy far, far away, I was not the sweet, conservative child that I am now. Not bragging, not apologizing, merely stating the facts.
I had my days off in the middle of the week. So did my best friend. We lived 35 miles apart. On Wednesdays, I would drive 45 miles and she would drive 10 miles and we would meet in a little town that had a very nice bar with a terrific grill and an outstanding bartender.
So, my friend and I (let’s call her Kim) were sitting at a table one night when this guy walked in wearing leathers. Kimmie said, oh look, a biker. I looked up and said, “That’s not a biker, that’s Terry Brawler. If you want to see a biker you ought to meet my sister’s’ neighbor. Now, that’s a biker.”
Please bear in mind that we did not date bikers. We dated cops, navy pilots, firemen, well, you get the idea. Kimmie was just intrigued by bikers. Me, I had known the Big Bad Biker (BBB) for about 4 years. He was just my sister’s neighbor. Besides that, he was blond. I didn’t date blonds. Besides that, he didn’t have a car. I dated cars. Besides that, I was seriously involved with someone totally inappropriate.
Anyway, I called BBB and invited him down for a drink. He had the motor out of his friend’s car and couldn’t get away. He said to give him a call the next week.
I did. He was still working on the motor and suggested I call the next week.
Kiss my butt, that wasn’t gonna happen. I did NOT get turned down and/or ignored twice and then try again. No way, no how.
The next Wednesday came, dinner was eaten, a drink or two or ten was imbibed, and Kimmie wanted to meet BBB. I refused to call. She wheedled, she whined, she plied me with more alcohol, she bribed me and I succumbed.
I called.
He came.
Now, I used to be a flirt, especially when I was more than half tuned. BBB is a flirt. He flirts like he breathes, without any consciousness at all. We flirted with each other all the time and had for the 4 years that we had known each other. It was harmless.
Until that night. Until March 19, 1985. The day that the swallows return to Capistrano. The day that is the feast day of St. Joseph. The day that my world changed forever. The day that I fell in lust.
We were sitting at one of those small round tables that used to be in every bar. Kimmie, having had her curiosity satisfied, was shooting pool with some of the other guys. BBB and I were talking and flirting and, according to Kimmie, igniting everything with 25 feet of us. She finally walked over to me, leaned in, and not as quietly as she thought, asked me “Why don’t you just tell him that you want to ………..him?” I was speechless. He wasn’t. He just looked at her and said, “She is. She’s just doing it better than you just did.” Oh, my.
We (BBB and I) left together shortly after that.
By noon that same day, everyone (including the incredibly inappropriate person that I had been dating) knew that we were an ITEM. Everyone was amazed and started making book on how long we would last and who would dump who.
We were married just over 2 months later, the day he retired from the Navy (did I forget to mention that he was in the Navy)?
I had my days off in the middle of the week. So did my best friend. We lived 35 miles apart. On Wednesdays, I would drive 45 miles and she would drive 10 miles and we would meet in a little town that had a very nice bar with a terrific grill and an outstanding bartender.
So, my friend and I (let’s call her Kim) were sitting at a table one night when this guy walked in wearing leathers. Kimmie said, oh look, a biker. I looked up and said, “That’s not a biker, that’s Terry Brawler. If you want to see a biker you ought to meet my sister’s’ neighbor. Now, that’s a biker.”
Please bear in mind that we did not date bikers. We dated cops, navy pilots, firemen, well, you get the idea. Kimmie was just intrigued by bikers. Me, I had known the Big Bad Biker (BBB) for about 4 years. He was just my sister’s neighbor. Besides that, he was blond. I didn’t date blonds. Besides that, he didn’t have a car. I dated cars. Besides that, I was seriously involved with someone totally inappropriate.
Anyway, I called BBB and invited him down for a drink. He had the motor out of his friend’s car and couldn’t get away. He said to give him a call the next week.
I did. He was still working on the motor and suggested I call the next week.
Kiss my butt, that wasn’t gonna happen. I did NOT get turned down and/or ignored twice and then try again. No way, no how.
The next Wednesday came, dinner was eaten, a drink or two or ten was imbibed, and Kimmie wanted to meet BBB. I refused to call. She wheedled, she whined, she plied me with more alcohol, she bribed me and I succumbed.
I called.
He came.
Now, I used to be a flirt, especially when I was more than half tuned. BBB is a flirt. He flirts like he breathes, without any consciousness at all. We flirted with each other all the time and had for the 4 years that we had known each other. It was harmless.
Until that night. Until March 19, 1985. The day that the swallows return to Capistrano. The day that is the feast day of St. Joseph. The day that my world changed forever. The day that I fell in lust.
We were sitting at one of those small round tables that used to be in every bar. Kimmie, having had her curiosity satisfied, was shooting pool with some of the other guys. BBB and I were talking and flirting and, according to Kimmie, igniting everything with 25 feet of us. She finally walked over to me, leaned in, and not as quietly as she thought, asked me “Why don’t you just tell him that you want to ………..him?” I was speechless. He wasn’t. He just looked at her and said, “She is. She’s just doing it better than you just did.” Oh, my.
We (BBB and I) left together shortly after that.
By noon that same day, everyone (including the incredibly inappropriate person that I had been dating) knew that we were an ITEM. Everyone was amazed and started making book on how long we would last and who would dump who.
We were married just over 2 months later, the day he retired from the Navy (did I forget to mention that he was in the Navy)?
Isn't he pretty?
That was 22 and ½ years ago. Everyone, including me, is still amazed
.
