how we met, part 2

So as I was weirdly re-reading my own blog posts, after creepily stalking another blog of yet another person I don't know, I noticed that part 1 was up and running and this one somehow disappeared. I amaze even myself at my technological prowess - the kind, of course, that defies user-friendly Apples and somehow still messes things up. 

If you're in the market for someone to come destroy your website, annihilate your iPod, sabotage your laptop, or drop your phone in a glass of cranberry juice (x2, my friends, within a thirty second timeframe...not that I have experience doing this), I'm your gal. 

So here goes - again. If you don't believe me, check the timestamps on the comments that were left two months ago. Consider that my resume and you're welcome.


Part One: Quick summary - nothing happens except that we meet. It's called editing and cutting, self.


So - remember when Mr. B saved my life (ehhhh, yeah, we'll stick with that one - saved my life) from the treacherous bee? I believe we call that a "type" in all things literary and Catholic.

It all starts when Mr. B is auctioned off for a date. With a friend of mine.

He double dates (we're not animals, people) with his friend and roommate. Steve* They secretly liked each other but wouldn't date for reasons I didn't know. But, they went on a date for a good cause (which was what? I don't remember why we did a date auction now!). Along with Mr. B's roommate's lady friend, Sara*, went our mutual friend, Gertrude*, who was going on the date with Mr B. I was pretty sure she had a crush on him and because I'm not dramatic at all, I was convinced he liked her back.

*Names changed to protect the happily married [to each other] - Mr. B insisted. I'd have kept their names legit-like, judging as how I kept their names in the original, mysteriously disappearing draft.

This is not confusing at all, no? Anonymity kills.

Then Mr. B called me at about 9pm and asked if he could stop by my apartment. Acting nonchalant, I said, sure, I guess I'm not busy. It's no big. There was no quaking in my voice, because I'm as cool as cuke in a Texas garden.

My poor roommate heard all about how he was coming over to humiliate me and tell me that he knew I liked him and he was really sorry because he liked someone else and please leave him alone, for the love of all on this earth. This was shared in a single breath/weep (that only teenage girls know how to pull off) as she was helping me pick out a fabulous outfit and tornado clean the apartment, obv.

When he arrived, my roommate disappeared and later told me that she was dying of thirst but just couldn't make herself walk into the living room where my heart was being crushed. Friends don't do that to friends. We chatted for what felt like eternity but was actually more like four minutes and then Mr B said that he just needed me to know that he really likes me and wanted to know how I felt.

Friends also don't let friends take photos like this, except that we have a whole series of these from over the years. Our kids should be excited that their parents (and godparents) are this cool. And no, this photo has nothing to do with the post, I just had to break up paragraphs because photoless posts are boring to me.

Again, being suave, I probably said something along the lines of, "umm, well, um...hehe..." all while maintaining zero amounts of eye contact.

Mr. B later shared with me that he had had a beer while out with our friends (he was 21, no worries!) and had the courage to do what he felt God was calling him toward. I'm so glad that man had liquid courage.

Because Mr. B and I are not-adventurous-at-all-please-leave-us-alone-we'll-be-alive-and-happy-when-your-sky-diving-rollercoasting-deep-sea-diving-self-is-gone, we decided to take our time in dating. We decided to just be friends to make sure we weren't just falling prey to crushes lined up.

Of course by, "just be friends," somehow we meant that we spent everysinglewakingsecond together. During that time, we fell in love, unbeknownst to the other (with each other. No scandal here.). And we still hadn't gone on our first date.

We finally decided that Our Lord truly was calling us to courtship and we weren't just passing fancies for each other, so Mr. B asked me out on our first date. We did the typical dinner and a movie (Italian and Star Wars...adjusting our pocket protects on three, two, one...) but, between dinner and the movie, it was anything but normal.

Mr B is also anything but normal and I usually like it that way. Sometimes I stop him.

As we were walking to the movie theatre, super extra crazy early because we're nothing if not annoyingly early to things, we heard a "thunk thunk thunk." We stopped and couldn't figure out where it was coming from. Mr. B shrugged it off and started to walk. I wasn't so sure and said I thought we should investigate a little more (who am I? I'm the last person to investigate stuff. Thank my guardian angel for this one!) (second note: I'm actually really nosy. That and my guardian angel can be thanked now). One row over was a little white car with the windows fogged up - the source of the "thunking."

Now Mr. B was really unsure of things and really uncomfortable. He kind of tapped on the window and said, "You guys okay?" A hand reached out toward the back windshield and a muffled voice screamed, "NO!"

Y'all - there were two people stuck in the trunk of a car. In late June. In Texas. At 6pm. We tried opening the doors. We asked if they'd tried the failsafe in the trunk. Mr. B tried prying the trunk open with his hands. When nothing was working, he ran to the theatre to get a crowbar and a manager. I stayed with the folks in the trunk.

We found out they were two teens - one guy, one girl. They had been jumped by three other teens and their shoes were stolen and they were shoved in the trunk. What...the....

Mr. B came back with a crowbar and a manager and they both tried to pop the trunk open. I called the girl's mom to tell her the situation. The mom was insistent that we not break a window to see if the key to the car was inside. Insistent. I thought the terror-filled screams and sobs would help change her mind, so I held the phone up to the trunk and asked again. After hearing her daughter shrieking for her life, she changed her mind.

I can't even tell you how long this was all going on. We called the fire department at some point in there. They showed up and smashed the window in. As they were searching for a key - these brave, strapping, brilliant firemen, desperate to save these two lives - Mr. B heard a "beep, beep, beep" and suggested they look at the ignition. Key found.

The trunk firemen opened the trunk and two soaking-wet, heat-sick teens stumbled out. I'll never forget the look on that tiny little girl's face. She just collapsed. We were told by the paramedics there that if they'd been in there even just a little longer, they would have been hospitalized or worse. Thanks be to God for our over-punctuality.

We didn't know what to do, so we hung around. Of course we missed the movie (Divine intervention? That movie was terrible, as we found out, a rental later.). As we were talking to the manager, the parents of the teens showed up and got into a big yelling match at each other and a police officer had to come in and break it up and remind them that their kids were safe and let's all be thankful for that.

So, that's our first date.

So happy to have saved a couple of lives and dodged the Star Wars Episode I bullet.

It's all pretty lovey-dovey for the next six months. After just a short time, I went from feeling peace that I was going to marry this man to feeling like this:

I don't even know.

To be less desperate and creepy, Mr. B felt the same way, minus the bling.

Christmas break comes along and go home to my folks' house to visit. Mr. B tells me over the phone that he doesn't think that we're ready to get married and maybe we shouldn't plan heading to the chapel anytime soon.

I'll leave y'all hanging on that cliff that obviously plummets toward the chapel of love, but pretend that the crash sound that each LOST episode ends with is playing for you. Stay tuned for the dramatic continuation.