For those who haven’t been here in awhile (shame on you!) this is Part III of How the Husband and I Met, Fell in Love, Kissed in a Tree and Didn’t Have a Baby in a Carriage. To get caught up, read Part I (Love at First BMW) and Part II (This is What Toying With Your Emotions Looks Like) Seriously, go read them right now. This love story has the makings of a summer blockbuster (or at least an after-school special) and it’s always better to read the book before you see the movie. (A perfect example of this is The Help. I saw the movie and at the end was all outraged and teary-eyed. Then I tried to read the book, but the only thing I cared about was getting to the part where the white bitch eats poop pie.)
My point? There is so much more to the story of me and the husband than poop pie, and is worth reading. I promise.
Remember last time when I said you won’t believe what happens next? Are you ready for this? We. Went on. A date.
But I’m getting ahead of myself and don’t want to spoil anything for you.
When we left off I was, once again, uninviting the husband to an event to which my friends and I had previously invited him.
We had no plans to do anything else that night, so after I uninvited the husband, we talked on the phone for forty-five minutes about what I can only assume was puppies, how shiny my hair is, and what we would do if the moon was made of Oreos (I would it eat). Which was apparently just the conversation topic cocktail that the husband needed to gather the courage to ask me out on a date.
The husband (or, at this point, known as the guy who does not give up easily): You want to go to a movie?
The husband: Yeah.
The husband: Really?!??!!
His voice possessed a combination of glee and shock, and I’m sure, given my track record, he was waiting for me to say, “Haha, no.” Which sounds like exactly the type of mind-playing shenanigans I enjoy, but I was too preoccupied with the fact that, before we started our conversation I had just gotten out of the shower, and having no plans to go anywhere, channeled my inner sloth and was lounging about in my bathrobe with wet hair and no makeup.
Not wanting to appear completely unfortunate looking on our first date, I got ready in record time (as in, less than an hour). In hindsight this was a terrible idea as it set a completely unrealistic precedent in the husband’s mind of my ability to getreadyreallyquicklyohmygosh.
I still remember what I wore that night: a plain, boring, orange long-sleeve shirt and jeans. The husband also remembers that I wore a green thong. Not because I took my pants off (honestly, what kind of girl do you think I am?), but because our first date took place in a time where designers had yet to invent a pair of jeans that didn’t produce a six inch gap at your back providing everyone and their great uncle an unadulterated view down your ass crack (or maybe they had and I was just unaware. a look back a photos from that era suggest that I had a habit of making unfortunate fashion choices).
Of course, the husband did not tell me at the time that he noticed my green thong because he knew I would have been all, “How dare you notice my panties! You, sir, are no gentleman!” and I never would have seen him again. And the husband couldn’t have that because he was already in love with me and planning our future. True story.
We saw Ocean’s Eleven that night. It had already started playing by the time we got to the theater (apparently I didn’t get ready as quickly as I thought), so they let us in for free. (Lucky for the husband since I’m pretty sure he was already saving for the engagement ring.)
After the movie, he drove me back to my dorm. On the way, we talked about The Fast and the Furious because when in doubt on a date, talk about fast cars and Vin Diesel. He pulled into a spot, put his Jeep in park, and just as I was about to get out of the car he said, “My roommate owns the movie. You wanna come back to my dorm and watch it?”
And I was all, “Sure,” because it is 2 a.m. on a Wednesday night and we’re in college and what else are we going to do? On the way, I wondered if, you wanna watch it? was code for you wanna tickle your tongue against mine? But when we got back to the dorm, we actually watched the movie and there was zero tongue tickling. There wasn’t event lip rubbing or hand holding. There might have been shoulder bumping once.
Before the movie was over his roommate came back with a bunch of people. The husband grabbed my hands, pulled me off the couch and told me he was taking me home because he was tired.
I was a bit perturbed because seriously, your friends are back so I have to leave? Lame, dude. Super lame. It was cold that night (like way below 70 degrees) and we had a long walk to his car. Like the perfect gentleman who doesn’t notice the color of his date’s panties, he offered me his jacket. I wore it on the ride back to my dorm and when we arrived I was faced with the most important decision of my life to date: Do I “forget” that I have on his jacket and wear it back to my room, providing me the oh-so-obvious opportunity to see him again to give it back or do I reject the oh-so-obvious opportunity because it’s just so obvious, give it back to him now, and risk NEVER SEEING HIM AGAIN?
What do you think I decide?