I was 15, new to this little town that was absurdly different from what I'd always known. One main road straight through, hardly any fun to be had if you weren't of legal drinking age. When I moved here I vowed to myself I would make different choices, take some chances, come out of my shell a little... or a lot. I left behind the only life I've ever known- decade old friendships, my first love, a city that was alive and crawling with promise. But here? No. Fun was limited, if it even existed at all. The teenagers of this town hung out by the Mighty Mississippi River or cruised down that sad, lone main street for hours. And that is how I met my husband. Sort of.
See, it gets complicated from here so just bear with me, please. My cousin and I were doing what we always did- driving around. We ended up in the parking lot of the local Wal-Mart and, of course, were catcalled. My cousin, being the wonderful pain in the ass that she is, gave this group of guys MY number. And of course they later called it, wanting us to meet up with them at a labor hall. Remember how I vowed that I would come out of my shell and take some chances? Well, I did just that. We didn't hesitate to jump in the car, so much so that I didn't even bother to find any shoes.
We pulled into this little alley between a bank and the labor hall. There stood the same group of guys and a few others, waiting for us. We talked through my window, bullshitting about random things.We never intended to park the car, to get out. Our whole trip there was based on the intention of messing with their heads a little and leaving. We were young with no curfew; why not? But of course we ended up getting out because that's how these things work.
So there I am standing on a cold gravel parking lot, stupidly not wearing any shoes and freezing my arse off on a random October night, when I saw him. This short, skinny little guy with shaggy brown hair and a reddish goatee with a cigarette hanging from his lips walked up to me. He slipped off his white Adidas shoes and told me to wear them. Being a totally sane person, obviously I took this random strangers shoes- because that isn't disgusting, right?
We headed into the bar portion of the labor hall to continue the bullshitting. I learned this hero who saved my poor feet from doom was named TJ... and that's about the only thing I learned before a very jealous girl who didn't want her crush talking to another girl made a scene with the bartender. Not wanting any trouble, I thanked TJ, slipped off his shoes and left with my cousin. I assumed that would be that. I would never see TJ again.
We were barely in the door at my house when the phone rang. It was TJ and his friend, who my cousin knew already. They got my number from the group of guys my cousin gave it to. We decided to meet back up, drive around. We ended up playing air hockey at Wal-Mart in the middle of the night and visiting other random people I didn't know. TJ and I flirted all night and I eventually got his number. Me being so shy, I knew I would never call him. I didn't have the balls to. But it was a fun night, at least.
Days went by and I couldn't get TJ out of my head. He looked at me in a way I hadn't yet experienced. I couldn't forget those eyes and that slight smile he got when he caught me looking over at him. And so I (say it with me) came out of my shell and took the chance and I actually called him. He answered, said he'd been wanting to get a hold of me, we should get together again...
In just over a month, we will celebrate our 8th anniversary and our 1st wedding anniversary. A few months after that, we celebrate the birthdays of our two children. The bartender from the labor hall attended our wedding reception. Oh, and the guy who originally got my number from my cousin in the Wal-Mart parking lot? He was the best man at our wedding. I still steal TJ's shoes, too. Ah, fate.
Awwwwww! Love it!
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