Ringing in the New Year (2006)

Note: This was originally posted in July 2008. But since we’re back in wedding planning mode, I decided that it definitely warrants a re-post. (But don’t worry… There’s a brand new post coming up on Monday! AND I’ve thrown in a super fun contest just to make up for posting an oldie-but-goodie. Enjoy!)

One of the fun parts of being engaged is when people ask, “So… How did you two meet?” and you get to relive your whole epic romance, in ten minutes or less. Having now told this story several dozen times, I still have to smirk a bit when I admit that Brad and I almost never met at all.

Quick background: The truth is, I’d never actually intended to go to St. Jerome’s University (a small campus within the University of Waterloo). Sure, I’d applied, but it was mostly on a whim. I was sure that I would be accepted to my first choice university, and so each day of my last year of high school, I rushed home to check the mailbox for an acceptance letter. Funny thing is, my first choice acceptance arrived last. But, as luck would have it, my last choice acceptance arrived first. Through a strange twist of fate, and with the sage advice of my guidance counselor (that’s two gift baskets for you, Mr. Brennan!), I decided to give SJU a shot.

So there I was, nearly two months into my first term as an undergrad and the annual residence Trick-or-Treating had just begun. The guys were up first, fishing for candy that they would inevitably just end up giving back to us when we headed over to their building, as we were far more prepared and had actually purchased treats. (Smart move on their part, actually… Bonus points for recycling AND being recession-friendly.)

That was the first time I ever noticed “That Guy.”

It wasn’t that hard, really… I mean, how often do you see a guy dressed in full “thug-wear,” with a chess clock hanging from his neck? (Think Eminem meets Bill Nye meets Flava Flav… Pure gold.) Even more hilarious was the fact that he was pushing another “nerd thug” in a little shopping cart, courtesy of the LCBO. I had to take a photo, because I was sure no one back home would believe me when I later recounted the tale. A few days later, I had the photos developed, and chuckled as I hung the photo of the residence “nerd thugs” on my wall.

And then promptly forgot all about them. Completely.

In all the excitement of first year – the classes, the new friends, and the parties (oh, the parties) – I didn’t stop to wonder whatever happened to that guy with the chess clock who had amused me so much. Instead, I went about my business, completely unaware that he was practically right under my nose, every day.

Flash forward to the next term. It wasn’t quite spring yet, but my annual Spring Sickness had decided to kick in anyway. I’d taken the day off school, and wandered over to JR Finn – the guys’ res – to leave a note for my friend, Nic. Dressed in my finest sweatpants and hoodie (the official wardrobe of sickness and despair), I plunked down in Nic’s chair to pen my little message.

And then, out of nowhere, this totally cute guy appeared. (I know, I know… cue cheesy romantic movie music, right?). I was sure I’d never seen him before… and I was also sure that I was staring. How could you blame me, though? The boy has killer eyes… They’re not just blue, they’re… mesmerizing. (And this is where my friend E would say, “Holy sap, Al. Barf.”)

“Have you seen Nic?” He asked, looking simultaneously curious and confused, which I’m sure I did as well.

“Uh. (pause) No. (pause) I’m leaving a note,” I replied, like the fantastically eloquent lady that I am.

“Ok. Um, thanks.” And he was gone again.

I’m not sure if you’re familiar with a little film called Dirty Dancing, but there is a pivotal scene wherein Frances (‘Baby’) Houseman winds up in the staff-only dance house of the Catskills where she is summering with her parents. She comes face-to-face with dreamy bad boy, Johnny Castle, and he asks what she’s doing there. She replies, “I carried a watermelon,” like the fantastically eloquent lady that she is. When he walks away, she makes a pained face and repeats, “I carried a watermelon?!” horrified by her own lack of coolness.

Yeah, Baby. I can relate.

As it turns out, that “totally random guy” wasn’t actually random at all. In fact, his photo had been on my wall for the past three months, as Nic later pointed out. I just didn’t recognize him sans chess clock and drunken shopping cart passenger. And despite my stunning display of oratory skills, we soon became best friends (and managed to stay that way, despite some pretty epic ups and downs over the years).

And now here we are, more than five years later, “That Guy” is actually “My Guy,” and we’re planning our wedding. While we have a list of things to plan that’s about a mile long, there’s one thing we know for sure: no one at our wedding will be sporting a chess clock. Not even the groom.

So, that’s our story. Now I want to hear yours! How’d you meet the “special someone” in your life? Let me know, and I’ll choose my favourite story to win a little gift pack, including a copy of Serendipity on DVD!