The Story of Wife: How We Met

B and I at my work Christmas party in 2006

 

I thought it would be fun to do a multi-part series on how B and I met, how we got engaged, and about our wedding. Enjoy!

In the spring of 2006, I enrolled in a Radio-Television-Film class at the University of Texas called Communication, Technology & Society. I don’t really remember why I wanted to take the class, my major — at the time — was fashion design, not RTF, but I suppose I thought it would be easy. It was one of those classes where the professor stands at the front of a huge auditorium and looks into a crowd of 300 people. So impersonal, crowded, it’s hard to really connect with the professor in classes like those.

It was perfect for me, however. As a waitress at a fraternity legacy bar in West Campus, I was working late nights, out partying after work most of those nights, and generally just having a good time. Going to a class of 300 people at 2:00PM on Monday, Wednesday, Friday was doable for me. And if I couldn’t make it, eh, no one would notice. The only catch was the weekly “sections,” where we had to break up into smaller groups and meet with one of the two Teaching Assistants and work on assignments, take quizzes, etc. Those were harder to miss and go unnoticed.

I was late to my first section. I was taking an acting class on the other side of campus, and had to hoof it, in ten minutes, to make it to the small classroom where we were to meet. I showed up, sweaty and out of breath, to the room listed on my syllabus.

“We’ll be meeting outside on the green today,” said a note taped to the door.

I was more than a little irritated. I ran back down the three flights of stairs I had just clamored up, and went in search of the group. By this time, I was already running about 15 minutes late, was annoyed, and knew this would probably just be the “what’s your name, here’s what the syllabus says,” meeting like all first sections.

When I found them, it was clear that I had missed the majority of the spiel. The Teaching Assistant was cute: tight black tee, pinstripe pants, glasses, a little scruffy. He reminded me of Moby, but more manly.

I approached him, introduced myself, and told him I would probably be late to sections because of my class in the Fine Arts building, blah, blah, blah, but I couldn’t stop staring at his pecs. He wasn’t a muscular guy, but here were these perfect pectoral muscles. I wasn’t even into muscles, but I couldn’t stop looking.

I’m sure we exchanged more words, but honestly I couldn’t tell you what they were.

Weeks went by and I really began enjoying the class. It was an interesting look at the development of language, technology, and how society has been shaped by technology throughout history. The professor was funny, and I had developed a crush on my T.A., Brett.

We rarely spoke in sections — I can be a bit shy when I’m crushing on someone — but I responded to every email from him that I could, no matter the topic. I got into the habit of typing up all the notes from lecture and sending them to him — later he told me I saved him hours of work every week because he didn’t have to transcribe his notes, mine were so good.

He began drawing silly little cartoons on my essays, and I tried to be clever in my essays, emails, anything. I wanted him to like me, and I had a feeling it was working.

It was.

Towards the end of the semester, after most of the grades were in, and all I had left to do was take the final exam, Brett asked me if I wanted to meet for coffee.

I was conflicted. I’d been in an on-again, off-again relationship all semester, and had become involved with one of my good guy friends. I felt like a wild thing, and didn’t know if I wanted to drag my new crush into the chaos of my lifestyle. But he was a big boy, right? He had to be, what? 27? 28? So I said yes, then no, then yes, and finally, he called me out on my flakiness in the most gentle way: he quoted Alice in Wonderland in his email.

“Who are YOU?” said the Caterpillar.

This was not an encouraging opening for a conversation. Alice replied, rather shyly, “I–I hardly know, sir, just at present — at least I know who I WAS when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been changed several times since then.”

(Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, Chapter 5)

Something clicked in me. Who was I? At the ripe old age of 19, I wasn’t sure, and wasn’t sure that I was supposed to know, but I knew what he was saying: “are you in, or is this a joke to you?”

I mustered up the courage to make definite plans, and the date was set.

On the day of the coffee date, I was getting cold feet again. I begged my girlfriends to come with me. I don’t know how I convinced them, but they agreed, and I was relieved… what if this guy was a total creep? I knew better, but 19 years of cautionary tales had left me more than a little on the nervous side.

We met at Spiderhouse, a coffee shop and bar next to campus, him at one side of the table, and me across the way, flanked on either side by my best friends, The Twins, two of the most amazing, creative, and sincere people I’ve ever known.

It went well. I felt more at ease with my wingwomen at my side, and Brett seemed to like them instantly. They even gave him a nickname: Brett Bretterson, from the Teen Girl Squad cartoons. Things were feeling good.

The next week, we had sections to prepare for the final. Brett had emailed me that he wanted to talk, so I shouldn’t run away right after class, like I usually did. (I was far too awkward of a person to risk impromptu conversations.) We agreed to meet in the foyer outside.

I was beyond nervous. This was uncharted territory for me: a T.A.? And an older one at that, at Spiderhouse he had revealed his age: 32. I’d never dated a 32-year-old before! Still, I couldn’t deny our obvious connection, so I went.

He held out four different colored, what looked like, tiny socks, and told me to pick one.

I picked the green one.

He gave it to me, and pulled out the real gift: an iPod Shuffle, pre-loaded with a mix tape he made for me, and four different colored sleeves for the Shuffle. I’d never owned an iPod, I’d never had anyone buy me something so expensive for no reason. I hugged him.

I walked from class to work that day, earbuds in, feeling like I was floating around, rather than walking. The mix tape is, in my opinion, one of the truest forms of appreciation, and a mix tape with an iPod? I must have done something right.

My friends at work noted my blissful demeanor. They were cautious, but open-minded, and told me to go for it.

So I did.

Brett and I started dating during deadweek, which meant I still got a “B” in the class, but there was nothing he could have — or would have — done about that anyway. He wooed me with an amazing restaurant tour that summer, all the best places in Austin, instilling in me a love for good food and an appreciation for the art of cooking.

He took care of me when I was sick, and was broke because I couldn’t work. He took me to museums, and places off campus that I’d never been to because I’d never had a car.

I introduced him to all my friends, and despite my family’s reluctance to trust him — because of the age gap — everyone was rooting for us. I finally felt like I had found someone who I could consider not only a boyfriend, but a best friend. The logistics didn’t matter, I knew this was forever.

Stay tuned next week for Part Two: The Proposal.