People always ask how we met. I suppose it's the question we hear second-most-often, after "when are you getting married?" We smile, blush a little, and say (usually in unison), "At a bar." That's right. At. A. Bar.
I sat down at a bar and had a beer, and the perfect man for me sat next to me.
We didn't know each other before that night, nor did we have a single person in common. I stopped at the local brewery to have a drink just to shut my sister up ("You'll never meet anyone sitting in front of Tivo," she nagged). He declared to his roommate that he was tired of being single and was off to find a girl. We both headed out alone that night, and ended up here, a year and a few months later, living a lifetime together.
I like to think that we were meant for each other. How else would someone just as quirky as I am end up sitting right next to me? How else would a guy with a penchant for breaking into song and dance meet a girl who'd warned her friends that her family often broke out into song and dance? How else would a softie for cats and dogs meet a sucker for puppies and kittens?
Here's my favorite cheese ball on our first trip together to Atlanta, at the Dwarf House (the original Chick-Fil-A):
Here are Miss and Mister Cheese being (you guessed it) very cheesy. See the torn up kitchen in the background? That's his bachelor pad, and this is one of our first make up kisses after fighting about the renovating work we were doing.
And here we are in our new house, showing off our newly refinished floors!
Now, your turn! How did you meet your beloved? Did any of you meet at a bar, like we did?
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