Confession: We Met in a Bar
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There. It’s out.
I met Husband in a bar.
Eight years, two cats, and two kids later, and I finally feel (sort of) comfortable announcing this to the world. I met the love of my life (awwwww) in a darkened, booze-addled, Manhattan bar. Called Prohibition no less. Sue me. You will not win a dime. It is not illegal to find romance in a moderately cheesy meet-market of a jazz bar. (Look, I am an actual lawyer. I checked. It is totally fine to meet someone this way. Yes, even a husband.)
Okay. It is legal. But is it legit? Is it something to, say, shout from the rooftops? Or the blogtops?
Yes, I think so. I know so. Yes.
And I will tell you why. Right now.
You can find love, real love, ridiculous love, anywhere.
It’s true. Anywhere.
For so long, I fielded the question. That question everyone just adores to ask. How did you meet? And you know what? I don’t blame them. It’s an easy question. I’ve asked it. It’s kind of like talking about the weather. It’s safe territory. Seemingly safe territory. The thing is that I didn’t feel safe when people asked me this purportedly safe softball of a question. No. I wished that I could tell people that we met in school, or through family friends. I felt like I needed to come up with a go-to script. And so I did.
You guys are soooooo cute together.
Thanks.
Where did you meet again?
[Uncomfortable pause. Requisite sip gulp of the Pinot Grigio.] Oh, we met in the neighborhood.
Oh. That’s sooooo great.
Yes, it is. And it’s a soggy little lie. Actually, not. Prohibition is in the neighborhood! Even with his stiff old categorical imperatives, Kant would approve. (Maybe. Okay, likely not. But he’s not around anymore.)
I didn’t lie, but I tweaked the truth. To make our story more appropriate, more legitimate, more packaged for mass consumption. But now? Now I’m not interested in quasi-truths, but real ones. I don’t want storybook rainbows.
I want reality.
And so. Here is our story.
Not because you deserve it. But because I want to tell it. I love stories. I live for stories. I collect them like stamps. I store them away in my buzzing brain and my blooming blog. For later. To tell. Stories become posts. Stories become books. Stories become marriages.
Stories become lives.
I was in law school. My best friends and I planned a girls’ night out. It was a Thursday night. We gathered in one of our apartments. Dressed all in black of course. We sipped Pinot Grigio. We talked and talked. About things serious and silly. About impending exams and celebrity gossip. About the dreaded bar exam. And boys. Even pretentious (oh, and I was. And am?) Ivy Leaguers talk about boys. We talked and talked and then we headed out. To pop by all of our favorite West Side bars. We made cameos. We emitted civilized and sexy laughter. And we moved on. I remember something so vividly about that night. Something so great. That something? It was just us girls. As much as we talked about boys, we were focused on each other. On our friendships. On girl time.
Until.
Until we (a) either had too much Pinot Grigio; or (b) saw him. And by him, I mean Husband.
We walked into Prohibition. It was late. The bar was pretty empty. The band was packing up its equipment. I spotted the silhouette of a tall guy with spiky hair. My friend noticed him too. (Hey, J!!) In unison, we said, “Now, he’s hot.” J and I had the very same taste in men. So much so that it had caused a problem or two in the past. But this didn’t matter. There would be no catfight! This was a girls’ night after all. No boys allowed.
Except.
Except that J, more daring than I will ever dream of being, went right up to Husband and started chatting with him. But there was a charitable aspect to this encounter. In no time, she sent him over to me. Before I knew it, our girls’ night included one boy. A boy who would, in about two years’ time, ask me a certain question. Who would in about three years’ time, become my man.
But that night? That first night? That first page? We talked. Uncertainly. Softly. Even in the dark bar, I noticed his impossible eyes. The ocean blue. He told me he had just moved to New York. I loved that he was not from here. He told me that he played soccer in college. I love soccer. He told me where he went to school. It was not an Ivy League. I loved this. I loved that he was intelligent. And polite. And soooooo painfully handsome.
Well, that was it. It. One night. One random night on which we were not meant to look at boys.
One night.
From that night on, we were inseparable. Best friends. Everything.
And eight or so years later, here we are. We just had dinner together. Takeout. On the couch. And now he is thrilled to be watching Heroes as I write this. We are, dare I say, happy. Raising two sweet little girls. Enjoying a bounty of laughter and love. Dealing with the sublime and subversive curveballs Life has a way of throwing: insecurity, sickness, chaos, renovations, and loss.
This is our story. Our love story. And, finally, I have the guts to tell it. Finally.
This is a story I will tell my girls someday. Yes, when they are old enough and curious enough, I will tell them about the rueful randomness of life and love. About chance. About luck. About the fine art of stumbling. I will tell them that if they live life with their eyes open, good things can happen when they least expect them. I will tell them these things. These are things I want them to know.
This is our story. This is our life.
Stories exist everywhere. So does love.
Just let yourself look.
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Do you think there are more and less legitimate ways of meeting people, of finding lasting love? Is meeting someone in school somehow more legitimate than meeting someone in a bar, or online, or at jury duty? Where did you meet your person? Where do you hope to meet your person? What’s the most random or amazing or unbelievable love encounter story you’ve ever heard?
***You know the drill. Leave a comment here today (1/6/10) by 11pm EST and you will be eligible to win a copy of Gretchen Rubin’s wonderful new book THE HAPPINESS PROJECT. Yesterday’s lucky winner was Kimberly… ***
Met my husband at church. Really. Couldn’t believe it.
I don’t think that anyone’s story should be de-legitimized (yes, I’m making words up, it’s early and I’m at work already) based on where it took place. You meet people where there are other people, whether it be in church, like Shelby, or in a bar, like you. You can’t meet the love of your life if you go places where there aren’t people! I think that the relationship that builds after the meeting is what makes the meeting legitimate — not where it took place, what time of day it happened, etc., etc.
I don’t know if I have met my person. I don’t know if everyone has just one person. I don’t care where I meet my person or at least the person who will make me happy for longer than someone has yet to. I just hope I meet them soon (and by soon, I mean before I’m 80 years old!!).
I met my ex, well, at a bar. He actually tried to convince me well before we ever started dating that I should go out with him. I would have no part of it. Finally, the girls took me out and got the two of us talking and we started dating.
Where will I meet my person? Who knows? Through friends, at church, at the movies, at jury duty, at a bar. I don’t know. I only know I must be open to that meeting for it to ever happen.
You are not alone! It could always be worse you could have met your husband at a dive bar named Gumbys!
I always suspected…I mean…I would never have ever ever grouped you with the cheesy meet-market of a jazz bar types.
My boyfriend introduced me to my husband while the three of us were taking a break between classes on the Quad. Husband and I just celebrated our 4th anniversary yesterday!
Silly boyfriend! Poor guy was probably just being polite and had zero clue what a monumental mistake (and favor!) he was making. Happy anniversary!
The next girl my boyfriend dated after we broke up was my best friend, so I don’t feel too bad. And my husband and I didn’t start dating until months after my boyfriend and I broke up (about the same time the BF started dating L, strangly enough).
My hubs just read me a statistic from some magazine he was reading the other night…I think it was Men’s Health or something…percentage of people who met their significant other in a bar? Over 40%!!!!!!!! I was stunnned, but we met at a party, which isn’t really any different, if you think about it.
Shame be gone! It’s not how you met, it’s the path you took from that moment on…
Online. And you’ve inspired me to write about it. (And I’ll be sure to link back here – thanks for the inspiration!)
I’d love to sit here and tell you that I met my wife while doing volunteer work for earthquake survivors, or that our eyes met on some long lonely beach in the Caribbean but the truth is that I had been out with the guys drinking one night. As a group we had been rejected so much that I was asking girls if they were gay (after all I am Ron and they were women) and then the magic happened…she was there at the bar drinking wine and talking with a friend about some book, I picked up on the fact that she wasn’t thrilled with the author, so I went over and gave her the best pickup line in the history of the world “that book is the greatest tragedy to writing since Hemingway killed himself.” Neither of them knew what to say, they just sat there frozen as if I had tasered them. Picking up the book, I read some quip from the dust jacket that made me seem like I read it. They told me to go away. Then a couple weeks later, while doing my laundry and reading some tabloid, she came up behind me and told me that the enquirer was the greatest tragedy to journalism since Hemmingway killed himself. She used my own line on me and thats when I knew that I had made an impression on someone special. A year later we were married, we still disapprove of each others reading material, but that was the last time I ever needed to use my killer pickup line, and thats why it’s the best pickup line ever.
I met my hubby on a blind date at a bar. It’s hilarious to listen to us tell our story because we argue about how it went down. (Let’s just say he loves to tell a version that involves me being 3 sheets to the wind. Not true!) It’s 16 years and 4 daughters later, and we revisit the bar around our anniversary each year.
Welcome to the coziness that is the ILI comment box! OOh – four daughters? Allow me my moment of envy. As one of five girls, I have always dreamed of having a bevy of daughters. I love that you and your husband have different renditions of your encounter and that it really doesn’t matter. I love that you go back to the bar every year. Husband and I did that for a year or two, but we haven’t been good about it in the last couple years!
I love your story! There is nothing wrong w/ meeting at a bar. We were introduced at a work party, where I had had way too many glasses of white zinfandel (classy, I know…) but I just knew that he was the man I was going to marry. Then, after that night, he didn’t talk to me for two weeks. Drove me insane. But after that, like you two, we were inseparable. And here we are
I met my husband in…the college dorms. It’s not illicit, but it sure is dorky! Imagine a lifetime of having to answer the inevitable “where did you meet?” question with “McCarty Hall.”
OMG! We are totally like long lost sisters or something.
Ready?
I met my husband in a bar, too!!! Not in Manhattan, but Hoboken, just the same. For the LONGEST time I would tell people I met him at the local library! LOL
Seriousy, I was living in an apt. at the time and since I met him in a bar, I certainly couldn’t give him my address, what if he was a psycho??? So we actually “met” at the library so he wouldn’t know where I lived until I could check him out some more.
2 kids and 10 years later, here we are.
Girl, this post was inspiration! If I ever get around to writing it, I’m totally linking back.
You rock.
I met my husband when I was 15. 15! He was my boss. Hah! No shame in where you met, girl! No shame! I am so glad you posted this. Personal love stories are the greatest.
Oh, I know that feeling, yes indeed: Match.com, baby! We exchanged a couple of e-mails, then I insisted we go ahead and meet in person (several previous experiences with e-mail personas not translating to real-life personas). We met up at a wine bar, and in the first five minutes I knew this was the guy I was going to marry. Or at least fall madly, deeply in love with. Weird and cliched, but true. We were engaged seven months later and married the next year (two and a half years now).
It was so hard for either of us to admit that to anyone outside of our immediate circle for the longest time. Why is it that we think there are “right” and “wrong” ways to meet people? Isn’t the “who” more important than the “how”?
Lori – Welcome to my neck of the bloggy woods! I know several people who found love online. Interestingly, I think it is becoming so much more mainstream to meet this way, so people are becoming more and more open about it. As they should. I agree wholeheartedly that the “who” is leagues more important than the “how.”
And you know what? As a writer I am not supposed to admit this, but I kind of love cliches. They exist for a reason. They are little pieces of common parlance. I think they are severely underrated.
Hey, I am a cliche in many ways and proud of it!
I think lots of people meet at bars. Me, I had the unusual experience of meeting my man at a bike shop. Whatever works right?
BTW, I’m still jonesing for the happy book. Consider this my entry!
I love your story! I think I might write a post like this myself. I met my husband at a restaurant. I realize that is not too shocking. What is interesting is I met him through an online dating website. I would have never ever ever believed in one million years I’d meet my husband that way, although obviously I was hoping too. As a woman in her thirties working in small office who doesn’t really like to go out, I needed some sort of way to meet men.
It wasn’t easy. I did it for about a year, going on at least one date a week. I got so sick of it that the first time I was supposed to meet my husband I stood him up and deleted my match account! After coming to the conclusion that having NO dates at all was incredibly boring, I signed back up and we finally met.
We don’t always tell people we met through match. We usually just say we met in a restaurant. Online dating is widely accepted, but it’s not totally accepted, you know what I mean? Anyway, I am simply amazed and so incredibly happy I met this man. He really is a wonderful person and such a perfect “match” for me. I can’t believe I was missing him in my life for so many years. I am jealous of people who got to experience this much earlier in their lives. But I am grateful to experience it now.
We met on a blind date. Even better: the date was originally scheduled for a December WEdnesday. I met him the Monday before. Hello, awkward. Even worse? On Tuesday he canceled. I did not know his father was having surgery. I just thought: JERK. He then called in January on a Saturday afternoon for dinner that very night. The ONLY reason (being a reader of those long-ago, horrible, but influential Rules) I said yes was my friend would NOT STOP bugging me about meeting him (the one who set us up). I agreed to meet him for two hours and had plans to meet friends at 930. Needless to say, did not meet the friends.
And a bar was involved!
Aidan, I loved this, because it means we all think our meeting story is embarrassing. I never ever ever in a million years thought I would tell people, “we lived down the hall from one another freshman year.” That story is for, well, people less interesting than I believed myself to be. My story would have to be something like, “we met climbing Kilimanjaro” or “at a literary salon in Paris.” I think it does young women a disservice that there is this idea of a right place to meet Mr. Right that leads all the rest of us who meet him in more mundane circumstances to feel let down or like we didn’t measure up (I feel the same way about the “perfect” engagement – if you want to marry him and he asks you, that sounds about perfect to me, whether on the Jumbotron, in St. Barth’s, or in between your white and color loads at the laundromat).
So thank you for sharing your meet story: I think the proof is in eight years’ worth of pudding.
i can’t say where i met my husband because i haven’t met him yet. but that is a story that i can’t wait to add to my personal collection, whether it’s crazy, silly, boring, elicit, online, offline, at the store, at the bar, or involves green eggs and ham.
thank you, as usual, for creating something so beautiful out of something (seemingly) embarrassing.
We met in college. And the only juicy bit about it was that we got to know each other because I used to date one of his fraternity brothers. It’s a very “safe” tale. We became friends. Stayed friends. When the previous guy broke up with me my now-husband starting calling and stopping by more often. Essentially, he wooed me, which was very sweet.
I don’t believe in love at first sight. But I do believe in fortuitous encounters, such as you and Husband had so many years ago. Sometimes I wish I’d had one of those. But today, more than 10 years later, we are so happy that I can hardly complain.
Hey, there are exceptions to every rule. You were the exception, not the rule. My sister and new brother-in-law, as well as my maternal grandparents, were also exceptions. I don’t think it’s very common to meet your mate in a bar (at least your long-term mate), but there’s certainly nothing shameful about it!
I technically met Dizzle in a bar, but not at random, he met up with my roommate’s crowd for her birthday celebration. Neither of us had felt like going out that night, but we forced ourselves because of our mutual friend (he works with her). We actually didn’t even talk we were both in such crappy moods, but he was impressed….by my rack. Isn’t that awful? I’ve begged him a thousand times, “Gimme something else I can use, tell me you were wowed by my glistening gold locks or my dazzling smile or that you were infected by my laugh. Anything but you thought I had a hot bod.”
He tries, but I know the real story. But don’t repeat that to anyone, please.
Btw I just read your YES post and got chills! Congrats on a happy marriage, I hope to be in your position some day.
I met my partner in college. I’d seen him around, but never talked to him until we were both invited to a valentines party at a friend’s house. He gave me a ride there. A few weeks later he had some other friends invite me on a spring break trip. We hung out the whole time and that was it.
Vanessa, welcome! You are one of those people I’ve always envied who can say confidently, “we met in college.” That sounds so perfect, so appropriate. I do like that there was a Valentine’s party in the equation. I have this odd thing against Valentine’s being a wee bit overrated and Hallmarkified (nope. not a word), but it is nice to hear of a love story that actually hinges on this heralded day of romance.
I first laid eyes on my future best friend and husband at a Thai cultural event in the dead of winter in the Interior of Alaska. I was a single mom who just wanted to offer my daughter some new experiences, new people, a taste of a different culture- not that a three year old appreciates any of this. She danced and swayed with strangers in brightly colored silks, floated her lotus flowers and used up every ounce of her good attitude.
I was only recently un-wheelchair-bound and clumsily trying to convince her to put on her shoes and jacket without falling over myself, she was screaming like a banshee and rolling on the floor in the atrium when a pair of size eleven boots stopped beside her pudgy little knees.
A soft spoken, gentle man knelt down to talk to her and in short order, she stopped crying to listen to him tell a story about a time when his dog ran away. He helped her with her shoes and coat, introduced himself and won my heart in 30 seconds flat.
We’ve been married three years, together for five and the toddler is ten years old…
Met my man day one of grad school… I had a boyfriend, so I was off the market – in his eyes. But I couldn’t keep him out of my thoughts. So, I ended my long distance relationship.
He had no idea how I felt about him – until one day… at a BBQ at his apartment, plied with some superior Gin & Tonics, I cornered him and asked him if I could kiss him. You know what he said to me? “Just once”. I had to make that one kiss count.
13 years later – I still remember it.
I am honestly shocked, a bar! Just kidding. But a girl’s night out interrupted with boys? Shows it was meant to be.
There must certainly be among a number of infinite possible worlds a reality where people who are meant to be do in fact meet for the first time in some ideal location, i.e. Paris, skiing in the Alps, work. Probably meeting at a bar is just one of those infinite possibilities but the outcome and people involved remain the same throughout.
I met my significant other at work and so we knew each other for a number of years before we actually started dating. We no longer worked together at that point however.
Aw, I think this is a great story. And a true testament to how you just never, ever know where and when you’re going to meet someone.
I understand how you feel though when you don’t want to tell people you met in a bar. My husband and I met online, although not through any kind of dating service. Rather, we were both writing for the same online publication and began corresponding. He was in Chicago and I was in Los Angeles.
Our short emails about writing and publishing eventually turned into much longer ones, and months later I spontaneously changed a flight so that I could stop in Chicago for one afternoon in order to meet this man I’d been writing to all this time.
We finally met in baggage claim at O’Hare and the moment I saw him I knew I’d marry him. I moved to Chicago 3 months later. We were married a year after that, and our baby was born just 2 years after that day at O’Hare. It’s been a whirlwind!
I meant to add that I don’t know why I never want to tell people that Greg and I met online. I have several wonderful friends who’ve met their spouses through online dating and I would never want to dismiss that avenue for anyone.
I guess it’s more that if I say we met online then people automatically think they know the story, when in fact, they don’t!
Love your love story! I don’t believe any place is more legit than any other to meet. I know people who’d kill to meet “the one” in a truck stop bathroom!
My story is this: I dropped out of college and moved from CO to CA to start a band w/my husband’s best friend. That’s how we met. People love this story, especially since we still make beautiful music together. (Shameless plug: http://www.myspace.com/karmachain)
Now, instead of working on my wip, I have to go and read all the great stories above. You’re so bad, Aidan!
Prohibition! Ha! I met “many” of my “men” there!
In the end I met T on a blind date in NYC. I wrote about it on our blind date anniversary. We met there and got engaged at the same place (imagine getting engaged at Prohibition?) it was similar to that…
Loved this story. And no, there is not a more or less legitimate place to meet. Unless he met you as a “dancer” at a “bar”. Then it might be something to keep in your head.
oy – i really hate smiley faces and I did two of them. Sorry.
I love your story. I don’t think that it matters, were & how you met. What matters is what you do after you meet! Be proud, tell your story. It is yours & no one else’s!
My story is very clique & almost unheard of these days (from my experience anyhow). My love & I met in high school, at my sweet 16 birthday party to be exact. He was friends of a friends boyfiend & they “crashed” the party. Our first date was the next day. We were supposed to just be friends & hang out until he left for Marine Corp basic training. 16 years later (10 years married), 2 amazing daughters & 2 dogs… we are best friends, happy & very much in love!
Oh & I LOVE your blog! I have been reading for some time now but never commented before. I love your honesty! Thank you for letting me into a little bit of your life!
Welcome to the conversation in the comment box. How amazing that you met at your sweet sixteen! You are right – I have not heard that story too often (ever). Fun to encounter yet another reader who has two daughters
Oh, and congrats on a decade of marriage!
Oh & that was supposed to be cliché (not sure what I typing originally!) sorry!
I love this. LOVE it. I feel a little sad that it’s taken you this long to feel confident in shouting it from the rooftops, but I love the way you told this story, and particularly the ending. Always keep your eyes open… I gave someone else that very advice (in a blog comment, or by email, I can’t remember) just yesterday
Jewish Singles party (at a bar in a hotel…) He said he saw me across the room in a beam of light. I think maybe the disco ball was on…
Aw, love the story. Legitimate? Absolutely! My sorority was right down the street from his house. It was February in the Midwest. Frigid temps. Friday night. His house party was the closest (key determining factor when you combine stilettos and snow). Five years later, still going strong.
I remember when I was still in college and I first heard about a couple meeting online. I thought it was so odd at the time. Then I thought about it and realized that, since Husband is the roommate of my former boyfriend (oops!), I was not exactly in a position to judge where and how other people meet the loves of their lives.
I agree with you: love can bloom anywhere, with a full diet of sunlight and water, or under a dark, craggy rock, hidden from view.
It seems to me, in this and age, that everyone I know is embarrassed about how they met their man. No one wants to admit it was at a bar or online. Or both. My best friend just married her man this past summer. They met at an after hours bar at 4am. I MADE her write her number on his hand in permanent marker! Go me.
I have no idea how to say I met my man. We went to high school together, but were acquaintances…not friends. Flash forward 9 years and we drunkenly run into each other in our hometown the day after Christmas. He lived in San Francisco, me in Chicago.
Flash forward yet another year, and we’re both Christmas shopping at Best Buy. He moved home to Chicago. It’s been 3 years and I still don’t know how to answer the “How did you meet?” question. High school? A bar? Best Buy?
I meant to say in the day* and age.
Welcome! Love the bit about the permanent marker. You are indeed a good friend. Your comment highlights something for me. Something interesting. Sometimes, there is not just one discrete story, but a smattering of possible angles. The answer to the question doesn’t so much matter does it?
I love your blog!
This was a sweet entry… nothing wrong with meeting him in a bar since you two seem to be living happily ever after.
I met my boyfriend in a parking lot at a pool hall… we just passed our 6 year mark.
Thanks, Katy! And welcome to the comment box. Parking lot at a pool hall? I love it. Not a huge fan of the term “happily ever after” because it smacks of fairy tales and I am a big believer in more complicated real life tales, but, yes, we are happy campers. Thanks for your comment!
Hey, love is one area where if it works, the method doesn’t matter. (Caveat: I will always maintain that cheating is never okay, using “always” and “never” in the relative sense, of course.) I knew a guy in high school whose parents met in a bar and got engaged less than a month later. Granted, they were engaged for about 2 years, but as far as I know, they’re still together today.
I was set up with my boyfriend at a bar during line-dancing night…and we have a great story. Maybe I’ll share it on my blog sometime.
Book winner!
What a sweet story! To me, any story with such a happy ending is a good story!
A very sweet story. I guess there are some places that we don’t want to admit meeting someone special. Meeting online for instance. We want to glorify it more.
I know exactly what you mean. I met my ex husband in a bar. We were married 11 years and are still good friends 3 kids later. People always acted surprised and expected me to feel ashamed when I’d say we met in a bar. Like only idiots or sluts go to bars???
I love your story. And here you are together today…
Hi, Maureen. Now you have me wondering whether people are not actually all that shocked about, or judgmental of, the idea of meeting in a bar, but feel as if they *should* be. How many of our reactions are sprung from our true instincts and beliefs and how many are rooted in cultural expectations and mores. I don’t pretend to know and I am skipping off on a lovely tangent. But interesting to think about. And, yes, plenty of wonderful and wise people patronize bars…
Oh, we met at a bar too not too far from Prohibition (Peters). We had our first kiss at another bar (Tipitinas in New Orleans). I too lie about our meeting saying we met through friends. This is actually another lie because the main friend we met through was more than a friend. Somehow I don’t lie about the kiss in the bar or the not-so-ex boyfriend but always, until now, lied about meeting in a bar. I just don’t think it sounds romantic…..but maybe eating takeout on the couch or meeting at a bar is romantic? I don’t know, thanks for the post I will stop lying about it. While we both met our husbands in bars, the similarities end with wine…you really like Pinot Grigio? I think you should start lying about that, just a thought.
I love this post for many reasons. I too love stories and savor the details like “It was just us girls. As much as we talked about boys, we focused on each other.”
I love your story.
I love that your post prompted responses and candor from so many.
I love that you question “legitimate” ways to meet a mate.
And, I love similarities.
Today is my 3rd anniversary and 10 days past the 9th anniversary of the night I met my husband, in a bar.
It is a good story with some decently decadent details, but a breathy and windy tale for another time. It took a few years and a not necessarily amazing/unbelievable, (re-)encounter to unfold. That portion I will attempt to somewhat succinctly yet sumptuously share.
We owe it to the Boss. Springsteen that is. My Jersey boy, A, who is prouder than most to be from the very same hometown as Sir Bruce himself, was in attendance at one particular late July 2003 Springsteen show at the Meadowlands. Days released from the US Navy and days before beginning grad school, A found himself awkwardly standing outside a Winnebago preparing his best pre-game, alcohol style. Some others may have been engaged in more illegal types of preparation inside the Winnebago. In small company, the pleasantries of introduction quickly led to the infamous “do you know game?” A found out that his new acquaintance went to Columbia and played football. This was the same undergrad that a girl he met 18 months earlier attended. She too was an athlete. They had shared some intimate email exchanges during his 6 months at sea supporting the Afghanistan war. They had several post-deployment encounters, wonderfully romantic by both accounts. Despite living on opposite coasts they shared frequent and intimate communication until one day, it stopped. That girl was me of course and I was head over heels for this guy, but playing it 100% breezy. In the 11 months we had known each other, I had never initiated contact. So when the calls and emails stopped I was left to wonder, and wonder and wonder. I was in my mid-20s and living in the city and a girl can wonder but that doesn’t mean she must wallow. Seven months later, that same late July day of 2003, I was driving back to the city from soccer practice on Long Island and while making my Thursday night plans. When a voice mail came in. It was from a friend, a fellow Lion, and the boyfriend of my roommate of 4 years. He sounded very fired up. “Tosh, it’s “P”, I am at the Meadowlands right now, about to go into the Springsteen concert. (pause) You’ll never guess who I am with! Call me back.” In the 11 months we communicated P & A had never met.
Happy Anniversary A. I love you tremonsterously.
You never ever know. Here’s random:
I met my partner on an overnight, long-distance bus ride in Mexico, 11 years ago. We come from different worlds, and were soon headed in opposite directions, so we had to act fast! (That last part is the part of our story that I don’t always love to share…)
We didn’t meet online, but we did maintain our relationship online for the first 10 months or so, while our separate travels kept us apart. I now have a family with “some guy I met on a bus.”
I love the idea of writing about this. I think I will have to follow your lead.
Welcome! Love this story. Love that you have a family with “some guy [you] met on a bus!” Priceless. I do hope you write about this – and that others do. Clearly there is an urge in all of us to tell our story, and to be heard. And the story of how we met the person with whom we share our lives is one of the most important stories of all. I also think that it is nice to go back and talk about the beginning. Before life intervened. Before kids. Before the chaos of adult life settled like a dense fog. It is nice to allow ourselves to call up the details of our first page.
Thanks for this comment!
I enjoyed reading all the posts, because they are all about love…and everyones own story is always the best in their eyes, and that’s a great thing, the fact that even if it’s an ex, they knew they experienced love, at least.
My husband, when we first met, was my boss. I had a huge crush on him, but he was married and I was living with someone. Nine years later, we met again, were both single, and I found out I wasn’t the only one with the crush all those years ago. We were married five months later, have been for the past 11 years, and have a daughter and a son, 6 and 2. I still have a huge crush on him.
Rebecca – welcome. You are right? These posts are all about love – past, present, future. I know many people who have found love in the workplace. It makes sense to me because in this day and age, people spend such a large percentage of their lives at work. How great that you met and then got together many years after when you could actually go for it.
I love that you have a crush on him! I love the word crush. I must write a post about the importance of having crushes in life. Of butterflies. Thanks for the reminder. And for the comment!
I so completely agree. You can find it everywhere, sometimes right where nobody tells you to look. I met my first love in a nightclub, at like 4am, drunk. People say that “nice guys” or “guys who want girlfriends” you will never meet out at a bar; but I always figured that I’m a (relatively) nice girl myself, and I wouldn’t be averse to finding a boyfriend, and I go out to bars and clubs. So there are good catches everywhere. And ironically any guy I’ve gone out with that I met through a friend or something turned out to be a jerk
I’ve been meaning to write about this story (and other first meet stories) on my blog, because I’ve been thinking about them a lot recently.
So thank you for sharing! And I think you shouldn’t hesitate to tell people this story freely. If anything it’s a nice change to the usual kind of meet stories you hear.
Oh, also! I was just on the upper west side yesterday with my mom, and we passed the place where my parents had their first date on Amsterdam avenue I believe. Apparently it used to be a restaurant and bar, but now it’s a place that’s literally called “Dive Bar.” We had a good laugh about it; real classy mom. :p
I met my husband online, and for years, like you, I would find ways to keep from telling the real story. It felt, well, tacky, to have met via the Internet. Eventually, I got over the need for the subterfuge.
I realized that all that meeting on online meant was what it was: that I wasn’t much of a party girl and preferred to stay home evenings with a good book and glass of wine. I suppose what really brought me around, though, was that, years after marrying this wonderful man — who also, by the way, wasn’t much of a party guy and preferred to stay home evenings with a good book — it became clear that I would likely not have met him anywhere else but where I did. I realized then and there that I should be delighted, rather than anxious about our how-we-met story. Ergo, happy ending.
Welcome, Clara. I think you have thought this through perfectly; You would not have met your guy, the man you love, without doing the things the way you did them. When it comes to these things, maybe there is no tacky. Any way is a good way. And a good book and a glass of wine? Sounds like a perfect evening to me! Ergo, thank you for the comment!
love this. love the “big reveal” and freedom that comes with it. love that you and husband have a more interesting story than paul and i do. we met in high school and have been together since our senior year… booooooring.
~ hope you’re feeling better my lady.
Having logged my fair share of time at Prohibition in my early 20s (yikes I feel old writing that), I can relate to the kind of evening it must have been! I like that little detail (the actual bar itself!) best. Ha! On the night I met my husband, we got kicked out of the divey-est yuppie bar in Beacon Hill (oxymoron?) at closing time. Sometimes a long night at a bar is what you need to let down your defenses a bit…
Weird. I met my husband in a bar too, and it never occurred to me to lie about it. To tell the truth, I think the story of how we got together is really funny.
Friend (who had dated him freshman year) wanted to meet him and his roommate at the bar, but she didn’t want to go alone. Met him and HATED him. I thought he was an arrogant jerk. There is a lot more to the story, but the short version is that I changed my mind and less than four months later, we were engaged.
We’ve been married thirteen years, have two dogs, two kids, and a revolving door of fish (darn aquarium). You can find love anywhere, and sometimes those silly stories of falling for the guy you can’t stand are true too.
Julie, welcome. I love it all. From the rapid-fire turn around to the “darn aquarium.” And I am always very intrigued by people who fall for individuals they originally detested. And remember: I didn’t technically lie. Prohibition is in the neighborhood
Haha true. I suppose I usually start with “We met at Purdue” and go from there.
The where is inconsequential…it’s the who that makes a relationship. My wife and I met at work and got married only months later. Nothing particularly exciting or romantic about it. But we were very happily married for 24 years until she passed away in November 2009. I miss her more than words could ever express!
Welcome, John. You are right, I am beginning to realize. The where is indeed inconsequential. I am so sorry about your wife. As you might know from reading ILI, I lost my Dad pretty recently and I know firsthand that there are no words adequate to express the grief and sadness and longing that follows. Thanks for joining the conversation.
Wow, you just hit my nail on the head (and of course, your own nail, too!). I’m still embarassed. Half in the closet. Half out. More embarassed three months after getting engaged about our first encounter. Planned. Three months after endless instant messaging and cross country phone calls. I stepped on a plane in D.C. ambivalent, excited, and with shots of adrenaline running through my entire being. I got off the plane in L.A. and flew down the escalator at age 23 to lay eyes on my future fiance and soon to be husband.
J and I met on Jdate. Not a big deal for most- internet dating is quite common. Is it common amongst bar-friendly post-college women who love to do what you once did- put on our black dresses and gather our favorite girls around for a night of cocktails and fun? I can’t say I’ve felt proud of our story. Ever.
To add more insult to injury, I gave my father hell for internet dating after my mom passed away in high school. My younger sister and I refused to look at him or accept either of his two girlfriends. One is now his wife. How did they meet? Jdate.
Curious enough, I began to look into Jdate in college. Hey, if you could meet someone in a bar you could easily hand select them off of the internet, right? So, I thought. I went on a myriad of dates in Atlanta and Washington, D.C. It was really fun and more often than not, awful.
Then I met J. We tried to date cross country. We failed. 8 times. I moved to LA. NEVER for the boy- for the dream of sunnier skies and a new lifestyle. We tried to be together a couple of more times. And then, it stuck. We stuck.
It took me three years of dating J to stop forcing us to tell a story that we met at a high school summer program at Stanford which I went to- and he had never been a part of- and reconnected via Facebook. That wasn’t a good enough lie. So, we’re back to the gosh darn honest truth. It’s easy and you know what, it totally works!
If you were counting- my dad and stepmom met and married thanks to JDate. My fiance and I met thanks to JDate. Now, my grandfather at 85 years old is looking for his JDate soulmate. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about finding love the old adage love comes along when you lease expect it doesn’t ring true in the 21st century. The new 21st century adage should be: love comes around when you’re most open to it. And sure, that’s probably been said a few times before, too.
Rebecca, welcome. And let’s all raise our virtual glasses to JDate! I love that you are finally comfortable telling your story like I am. There really are no more and less legitimate ways to meet people and maybe if we accepted our own stories and *ourselves* more, other people would too. I do think this comes down to openness. Arbitrarily limiting the ways we are willing to find love is tantamount to closing ourselves off to possibility. I love the fact that your grandfather is on JDate. Hey, why not? Thanks for your comment. And so glad I hit your nail on the head
I love this post, and I met my husband while studying abroad. I think the place where you meet each other absolutely doesn’t matter- as you said, you can find love anywhere.
Hi, Katie. Welcome! There you go meeting your husband in such a safe, appropriate way. Abroad? Didn’t you see any of the comments above? No parking lot? No midnight bus? No seedy dive bar?
Thanks for commenting!
whaaaa? no need to have hidden that from people, but i do understand the trepidation in revealing the full details. people are judgemental…and maybe when we’re young we dream of how we meet our prince charming. so when that dream and reality don’t mesh and it doesn’t seem as–pretty?–then we’re somehow ashamed or embarrased.
but i met my husband in a bar too
and all is good!
Best drunken bravado I ever had
!! And, it’s no worse than meeting your husband at work like I did!
i recently met a guy in a bar who’s now pursuing to date me. i am the anti-bar guy type of girl thinking that guys you meet on the bar won’t lead to something serious. i am liking him each & every day though. well, i hope your story will happen to me & have a happily ever after too…
My mom and dad met at the bar of the bowling alley of their small town. He took her home after the bar closed (she had sent her younger brothers, whom she had taken to a school basketball game, home earlier) and they got stuck in the snow when they were necking in the car. My dad was too scared to ask my grandfather to pull him out with the tractor, so he called his brother to get him with his dad’s tow truck. (Other grandfather owned a car dealership/auto repair.)
You! I absolutely am enamored with your writing and this love story. I do not know you, but I know the feeling of meeting that special someone, and the description you have portrayed so vividly. What wonderful writing! I love the way you wrote as if you were speaking directly to the reader. The spaces in between sentences, the boldness, the italics, everything!
After reading this, chills crept down my spine.
Completely wonderful, creative writing