One Night Can Change Everything
The setting: July 1, 1997. It was a Tuesday. Baltimore, MD. Whiff and I drive up from DC to meet up with my friends Holly and Ceila, and Holly's friends Jodi and Claire, who are on vacation together, traveling up the East Coast, stopping to see Holly's friends and do fun things.
I walk in. I am struck by lightning. I can't speak, I can't breathe. I think to myself: "Self, you are in big trouble right now." I am so smooth that I do not hear whether Claire's name is Claire or Jodi. I only hear every part of me confirming that I am smitten.
The introductions happened right around this time, 12 years ago. Can that even be right? TWELVE YEARS?
We pile into a station wagon to drive from Ceila's house in Towson to the bars by the harbor. I ride with Holly in the way back. Claire gets the Wrong Idea about my intentions with Holly. I want to know from Holly if the brown-haired girl I am in love with is named Claire or Jodi. Holly laughs at me and won't tell me for a few minutes. Suffer. Suffer. Suffer. Her name is Claire. Bliss.
"I knew that you guys would really like each other," said Holly to Claire later, a couple of days before our wedding. Holly was right. She's a good friend.
I wore Doc Martens with no socks, cargo shorts, and a beat up Phish t-shirt. I always aim to make a good first impression.
Claire changed clothes before we went out. I can't remember what she had on when I was introduced, but later she wore khaki shorts, and a yellow top, and tennis shoes.
We didn't speak for some time after we got to the scene. In that time, I confided in Whiff that I was a wreck and was having trouble forming sentences. "Sweet!" Whiff said. "I'm going to go talk to her." That pretty much spurred me into action and the rest, as they say, is history.
We didn't even smootch that night. "Because I'm a nice girl," said Claire, moments ago snuggled on the couch. I couldn't agree more.
Happy Meeting You Anniversary!
10 year anniversary picture? Nope. That's from the Night We Met.
I walk in. I am struck by lightning. I can't speak, I can't breathe. I think to myself: "Self, you are in big trouble right now." I am so smooth that I do not hear whether Claire's name is Claire or Jodi. I only hear every part of me confirming that I am smitten.
The introductions happened right around this time, 12 years ago. Can that even be right? TWELVE YEARS?
We pile into a station wagon to drive from Ceila's house in Towson to the bars by the harbor. I ride with Holly in the way back. Claire gets the Wrong Idea about my intentions with Holly. I want to know from Holly if the brown-haired girl I am in love with is named Claire or Jodi. Holly laughs at me and won't tell me for a few minutes. Suffer. Suffer. Suffer. Her name is Claire. Bliss.
"I knew that you guys would really like each other," said Holly to Claire later, a couple of days before our wedding. Holly was right. She's a good friend.
I wore Doc Martens with no socks, cargo shorts, and a beat up Phish t-shirt. I always aim to make a good first impression.
Claire changed clothes before we went out. I can't remember what she had on when I was introduced, but later she wore khaki shorts, and a yellow top, and tennis shoes.
We didn't speak for some time after we got to the scene. In that time, I confided in Whiff that I was a wreck and was having trouble forming sentences. "Sweet!" Whiff said. "I'm going to go talk to her." That pretty much spurred me into action and the rest, as they say, is history.
We didn't even smootch that night. "Because I'm a nice girl," said Claire, moments ago snuggled on the couch. I couldn't agree more.
Happy Meeting You Anniversary!
10 year anniversary picture? Nope. That's from the Night We Met.