Throwback Stories: Our Meet-Cute

Throwback Stories: Our Meet-Cutefeatured

When someone asks my husband and I how we met, we always smirk or chuckle.

It’s a great story, if I do say so myself.

The short version is that my friend set us up.

The longer, more entertaining version is this.

Throwback Stories: Our Meet-Cute {the ponytail diaries}

Beginning of spring quarter, my fourth year at college. Let me set this up a bit: I was 21 and had, over the past year or so, gotten frustrated and fed up with guys and all their BS. I had no problem with flirting with a guys at bars to get free drinks, but that was about it.

So it was Friday night and when I’d gotten home from class or a run or whatever, I discovered Lord of the Rings was on TV and promptly changed in yoga pants and made dinner. My night was set.

Then my friend started texting me. Something about a party in Architect’s Village out in Poly Canyon and a hot architect from Kentucky I “had to meet.”

I refused. At the time I only vaguely knew how to get to Architect’s Village, had no desire to drive out there, and besides, Aragon and his little gang was planning a diversion so Frodo and Sam could get the ring to Mount Doom without Sauron noticing them.

A couple weeks passed. This same friend and I had been talking about going line dancing (which happened at the Grad every Thursday night) and finally made actual plans. I went to pick her up and she was downright giddy.

“I’ve found us an instructor,” she announced.

“A what?”

She made me guess who would be meeting us at the Grad. I reluctantly named a couple guys — a mutual friend we hadn’t seen in forever, a classmate she’d mentioned recently. “…that architect guy you met?”


I rolled my eyes. “Fine…”

I’d be nice and play along but dammit, she knew I didn’t want to actually meet someone or bother with dating or anything.

So we get to the Grad and head to the bar area to get some drinks. Said “architect guy” wasn’t there yet.

Then this guy in a brown cowboy hat approached me friend and actually doffed his hat when greeting us.

He was cute.

And he had a (empirically not unattractive) friend with him.

“Would you like to dance?” he asked…my friend.

“Uh, okay.” She shot me a look and we both shrugged.

I danced with his friend most of the night and, all things considered, had a great time. The four of us took several breaks to get more drinks or go outside to talk and literally everything this guy said, I liked. He told us he was born in Texas but moved to Kentucky when he was about 11. He was an Eagle Scout. He was in a fraternity I didn’t know much about (which was a good thing; at that point most of the fraternities I knew well did not impress me). He loved rock climbing. He was easy to talk to, respectful, interesting.

Towards the end of the night, his friend and I were sitting a dance out. I watched him and my friend on the dance floor. “I hope she remembers to tell him she has a boyfriend,” I said.

(I feel like this part of the story makes both of us kinda look bad. She was in a long-distance relationship at the time and she never came close to cheating on the guy. And I swear I wasn’t being passive-aggressive or anything, just hopeful he wasn’t getting the wrong impression.)

On the drive home, I admitted it was actually a really fun night.

I found out later, on their drive home, his friend mentioned my friend’s boyfriend, which finally got things to click in my husband’s mind and he realized he’d been on a set-up.

He texted my friend the next day and invited both of us to another party in Architect’s Village. She gave him my number and a week later, he asked me out.

It’s really awkward to write all this without using any names. Sometimes I question my decision to respect other’s privacy on this blog.

possibly my favorite wedding photo via aptera studios