by Kelley Gecik

Created on: July 02, 2008   Last Updated: October 31, 2008

"Let's just stop in for one drink," I said, not knowing that I would be leaving with "the one" I had been searching for for almost 28 years.

My new roommate and I barely knew each other, so I suggested we go out to dinner. I had recently broken up with a 15 month relationship (about 14 months past due) and wanted to try my "going out" wings. I wore a black and white pinstripe shirt with the sleeves rolled up, my favorite GAP jeans (that I promptly lost two days later by leaving them in the dryer at the laundermat) and a pair of moderately high heels. Dinner was pleasant and I had decided that my roomie and I had enough in common to at least get along.

As we left, I noticed the time. 10pm. Still early. I knew there was this shady little bar on the way home, a place I would go to with my old roommate. The bar is a sliver of a place, dingy, dark, with an old jukebox and even older clients. Recently it had become "hip" to go there and so when I suggested the place, new roomie said sure.

I saw him when I first walked in. The light was kind of in my eyes, but from afar I saw his height and outline. Taller than me and in good shape. Black T-Shirt, jeans and a decent tattoo on his arm. I led roomie right by him, splitting him from his gaggle of friends. The bar was pretty empty, but it seemed they'd all been there a while.

"I'll have a Sex on the Beach," I said, feeling bold. I ignored the boys, who I knew where conspiring behind me. Sure enough, the cute one walked over and said, "Is that for me?" Motioning to my fruity, pink cocktail.

Is that for me? The worst pickup line ever. EVER. At this point I knew the line was bad, but I'd already seen his face, and what a handsome face it was. High cheekbones, full lips, big brown eyes and a huge smile.

Me: (still somewhat ignoring) "Um..actually the bartender's getting yours."

Him: "Oh..(he'd already given up) so basically you're telling me to f#@! off."

Ok, now in retrospect, he was out for the evening with his friends to celebrate the fact that one of their wives was pregnant. They'd been drinking a little while. I don't think he'd normally say that to make an impression.

Me: "If I wanted you to f#@! off, I'd just say it."

Then, we launched into a conversation about.... George Hamilton's tan, The Silence of the Lambs and his friend's obsession with head-butting. His friends were as nice as he was, without the slimey feeling. Later, we all sat at a table together making jokes, laughing, having a good time. I felt a genuine good vibe from all of them. And I was totally checking out this cute guy the whole time, even commenting to new roomie in the bathroom, "I think that Brendan guy is kinda cute."

As we made our way outside to go home (seperately, thank you) we all stood around while Brendan nervously make small talk and his friends smoked cigarettes. "Is he ever going to ask me for my number?" I thought, doubting myself for a moment. On and on it went, I felt like we were out there for like 15 minutes, his friends were jibbing him, "Are you gonna ask her for her number?" And he'd just smile and look embarrassed. Finally, I had to save him. "Here, I'll give you our number so we can hang out again sometime." I said "our" to make not it too pressured. Suddenly he was Mr. Man again. "Oh, sure." Pen, paper, number written.

Three days later he called. Seven months later he proposed. Eighteen months later we were married.

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