how we met

We- We-, oh it’s your turn, no go ahead – let’s see if you keep it straight this time.  No, seriously… you do it.

Why don’t we do it together?

The Stage
My house in Atlanta sat on 3/4 acres of mostly grass.  However, there was a nice variety of azaleas, hydrangeas, Japanese maples… and a number of other things that I had learned the names of as I tried to stop whatever it was that I was doing to kill them.

You didn’t know the names of half of those plants.

What are you talking about? – I just mentioned the names.  Anyway, I had given up on trying to keep most things alive myself, and fully understood how lawn care companies stayed in business.  I did, however, still handle the idiot-proof things that I couldn’t kill (or I was supposed to kill).  I’d work in the yard on the things I couldn’t break, or would rebound from my mistakes – like raking leaves and killing weeds.

So periodically I trekked off to the local lawn and garden center to pick up some lawn bags, weed killer and other idiot-gardener supplies, and free popcorn – for some reason this store always had free popcorn

Yeah, I never want to eat popcorn again after working there.

and I always inhaled a bag or two while I was there.   On one of my trips, I saw her.  I hadn’t seen her before, but I would not forget her.

Aww

The Storm Brews
In fact, I could not stop thinking about her, and a few nights later, after trading strategies with a Maker’s Mark in a room of deafening boredom, I decided that I was going to ask her out. 

I just hadn’t worked out quite how… yet.

The Second Opinion
Of course, I’m not crazy enough to ask out a stranger without a second opinion.

Yes you are!

That’s where Robin comes in.   Some guys are lucky enough to have a good wingman.  I’d say Robin was my wingman, but for some reason I think a wingman is supposed to be a wing “man.”  Robin was much more valuable than a wingman anyway.  She was the validator, the girl on my side who would give me the read, the skinny, the green light.  In this case, it was also sort of important to get her read on not only if the girl who caught my eye was really as stunning I thought she was, but also how old my lawn and garden center pixie was. 

I’m not that good of a judge – she looked to be in her early 20s, but sometimes that could be in her mid-teens – and that’s not a game I was interested in playing. 

Suurre.

In my “drive-by” with Robin, we stormed the store in stealth mode, went in different directions, and met back at the entrance less than 2 minutes later. 

I must have missed that.

I said stealth mode!

Robin was smiling when I met her back at the entrance, because I hadn’t told her who it was in the store; she had deduced it –saying that she was perfect for me and exactly who she could see with me.  Sure she looked young, but not too young, so don’t worry.

I thought she said there was no way I was over 20!

OK – that’s not what I remember – but whatever.

So you weren’t going to get arrested by going out with me?

Anyway.

Done and Done – I was going to ask her out.  I just hadn’t worked out how… yet.

The Day I Asked Her Out
So one unseasonably warm, beautiful (she was wearing short tan shorts and a short sleeve green shirt)

Tan shirt! Can’t you remember what I was wearing?  It was a uniform - I always wore the same thing!

…Friday in the second week of February, I headed out the door to work.  Although I wasn’t headed to the office that morning, I was headed to an elementary school.  I had volunteered to participate in a Celebrity Reader program (obviously not exclusively for celebrities,

Obviously.

because it would be a stretch even for my big ego to call myself a celebrity)

Not really that much of a stretch.

that brought local executives into elementary schools to read to students.  However, I was double-booked to read with the President of the Bank I worked for –and guess who got bumped? 

Yoooouu!

That’s it! 

I’m going back to the lawn and garden center and if she’s there, I’m asking her out.  If she’s there, on a Friday morning, then I’m going to scrape up something to get a phone number out of this.

So I pulled into the parking lot and my plan started forming. 

You just started forming your plan in the parking lot?

OK well, the Maker’s Mark gave me a suggestion, but I wasn’t sure I could pull it off.

Walked in the store, and she was working (I mentioned those cute shorts right?).

They weren’t that short.

Don’t ruin it.

I remember seeing you walk in.  You looked over at me and you had this mischievous grin on your face, like you had just gotten away with something and no one else knew about it.  You were wearing a burgundy and tan, plaid button-down shirt and some khaki pants that I imagine you saw in an L.L. Bean catalog.  And you looked like you just got your hair cut.

Actually I think I did just a hair cut.

And you went off to the lawn bags.

She had taken a break from helping customers and was filling balloons with helium.

I don’t think we had any customers yet – you were the first one.

Uhhh.

One balloon escaped her grip and she stomped her foot. 

I don’t remember stomping my foot.

I distinctly remember that, I absolutely remember that detail.

And I was hoping no one saw the balloon I “misplaced.”

Whatever you say.

So, now… to set my plan in motion.  While she helped other customers,

There were NO OTHER customers.

I loaded up my cart full of stuff, just so that I could have some legitimate reason to remain in the store without tipping my hand that I was really only there to ask her out. 

I wondered what was taking you so long.

What do you mean?

Why you were staring at the same spot on the wall for 10 minutes.

You saw that?

Not that I was looking at you or anything.

Anyway.

Incidentally, most of the stuff I walked out of the store with went straight into my garage, was never used, and was donated to charity a year later when I moved. 

Finally, I timed it so that she would help me and she led me to the “checkout” counter. 

I led you to the checkout counter?  I was already standing there!

OK, we were both at the checkout counter.

Alright.

Of course I didn’t have enough cash to pay for all of the lawn crap that I loaded up on.  So I used a credit card.

The Pickup Line
“Which copy is mine?” 

“The bottom copy.” 

“You forgot to put your phone number on my copy.”

“Are you serious?”

–as she reached for a pen. 

Oh whatever!  You like to tell it your way.

That’s what happened.

The reaching for a pen sold it for me – I knew I was in. 

Whatever… you “hoped” you were in.

Right.

When I tell this the story, I either get a high-five – or slapped for that stunt.   Look at the score board – it worked.

Hmph.

So she wrote her name and number down, I looked at it and extended my hand to introduce myself. 

"Nice to meet you Jill.”

“Nice to meet you too.”

I guess I got your name from the credit card slip.

The lawn and garden center also offered a sort of collector stamp deal that you got after each purchase where you could put stamps in a booklet for future discounts – and I collected them.  And Jill (what a great name first of all; I never met a Jill I didn’t like) had begun to run the little dial to get the stamps from the massive (and useless) purchase I had just made.  So I extended my hand, and she shook it again – another indication that I was in.  She was nervous and forgot that we just shook hands, and I just wanted the stamps!

I just thought you were weird and wanted to shake hands twice.

You were nervous.

I wasn’t that nervous.

You were nervous.

OK, maybe a little.

So now I have the number and can plan the “call.”  I got the digits on a Friday – so that weekend is out of course.  The next week had a holiday in it, just not appropriate for a first call: Valentine’s Day 

That would’ve weirded me out a little.

which was on a Monday – yes I remember that detail also.  So Wednesday I called her in hopes to ask her out for the weekend.  Sure, a little aggressive on the timeline for ‘guys calling girls’ rules, but I didn’t care. 

Left a message:  “met you last week, blah blah blah, call me back if you have a chance.”  Two days later… got the call back.  Left her another message – so that weekend was out.

Oh, darn.

Tried out the “you’re either not there, there and don’t want to talk to me, or there and desperately want to talk to me, but you’re trapped under something heavy” line – from the movie ‘When Harry Met Sally’ – which was a gamble as far as voicemails go. 

I thought “he’s either really clever and knows that was from ‘When Harry Met Sally’ or he’s a total loser and doesn’t think I know that’s from ‘When Harry Met Sally.’

Two stinking weeks later, we’re still trading calls. 

I’m going back in. 

Pulled into the lawn and garden center parking lot, strode in the door and she’s right there smiling. 

Right where smiling?

Right at the entrance smiling.

“Can I help you with something?”

I wasn’t sure if you were there to see me or just needed more lawn bags.

“Yes you can help me with something – I want to take you to dinner - can you help me with that?” 

“How do I know you’re not some sort of psycho?”

“Oh – don’t worry, I am a psycho” –and that sealed the deal.

I knew he was normal then.

We set up dinner for that Friday (February 29th!) right there and then – which led to the best first date I’ve ever had. 

Aww, that’s the best first date I’ve ever had too.

And now, the best years I’ve ever had. 

Really?

And that’s how we met.