They Say It's Your Birthday...

On my 10 year wedding anniversary BLOG entry I promised to tell the story of how Carter and I first met at some other time in the Buck Rogers future. That I would explain the meaning of real date, which is engraved on the inside of my wedding band. Well, Dear Reader, the future is now for such a BLOG. You see, Tuesday, November 9 is my Lovely Bride's birthday. It is also happens to be the same day I asked her to marry me. The timing is perfect. Dig this.

If you haven't realized by now, I'm a dork. I have goofy habits, one of which is trotting out what I call stock jokes. Example. If I hear talk about a hysterectomy, my stock joke is this: does that mean their rectum is history (insert laugh track.) If you see me, try it. I guarantee I'll say it to see if it gets a laugh. The reason I tell you that, is this - another stock joke is how I met my Lovely Bride. If someone bothers to ask me, my reply is this: (it is especially funny if the person asking doesn't know me very well) we met while she was giving me a table dance at The Million Dollar Saloon (read: infamous Dallas titty bar). Funny (to me at least), but not true. The truth is actually funnier (in more ways than you yet know.)

In late Fall 1991, on a cold November night, I was walking down Elm Street with two friends. Heading East as it were. The woman who would one day be my Lovely Bride was walking West with a friend. Happenstance, one of the guys I was with, knew the lady Cart was with - so we stopped on the sidewalk and talked. We did the usual, quick intros, etc. while the two that knew each other chatted. Since my friend was into Carter's friend we decided to all head back up Elm Street to a now defunct club called The Frig(erator). Since the guy and girl were interested in each other (they would soon date), that left me and another friend and Carter to talk, dance, drink, etc. I'd like to romanticize this first meeting. Say that our eyes met and we knew. Or we accidently brushed against each other and felt a jolt of electricity. Again, it would be pure (and bad) fiction.

The real deal was that, although friendly, Carter didn't seem interested in me. She was friendly and nice. At first she seemed into my other friend. This changed after we all left and went back to my friends (the two guys I was with lived together) apartment. She soon was equally disinterested in him too. Meanwhile the future lovebirds were in what was called the Love alcove (a strange ante room to the bathroom in their apartment) hooking up (as in kissy kissy, not fornicating) while we hung out in the living room.

Again, and even under the influence of demon malt, I got the vibe that Carter just didn't dig me, dig me. I found that curious, but what the hey, I'm not an overtly, "How you doin'" kind of a guy. Not my style. I wasn't Johnny Lee (read: looking for love in all the wrong places - for the Urban Cowboy fans in the audience.) I figured I wasn't her type. So be it. We could be friends. Which we became as the love birds took their romance out of the love alcove into the great wide open. They started dating, with an end result of Carter and I seeing more of each other through our mutual friends. It wasn't an everyday kind of a thing. Sporadic at best. But, I did continue to see Carter, usually going out - and the more I saw her, the more attracted to her I became. Still, she was not interested in me. I could just pick it up on my radar. Friends. That was us.

A few months later, I learned that Carter thought that I was funny.
Not, ha ha funny. Queer funny.

From the get go, Carter thought that I was a card carrying homosexual. So much for my self image as a stud. Note to self: don't match! Kidding. As a favorite song goes, unbeknownst to fools like me, by the time I learned the above, she no longer thought that I was 100% gay, because I had, how shall I say, exhibited heterosexual tendencies with a friend of hers. She might have wondered if I was in the closet? Bi-sexual. I wasn't clear. The one thing I did know was that I was doing damn near everything I could do to keep Carter from ever wanting to like me, like me, while I was liking her more and more each time I saw her. Still we were just friends, so we still saw each other out and about, etc.

By Spring 92 we had become good enough friends that we would go out together - usually in a small groups - no longer just meeting because of mutual friends. Still, these 'dates' were anything but, just friends going out on the town.

After a few months of this, I started getting the vibe that she might actual like me a bit. Because of our history, I was a little worried, hell why lie, afraid to ask her out on a date. Carter was wonderfully tough (she's still pretty tough actually) back then. Big ass Leather coat. Boots. Wearing a F (bomb) You were from Texas Loco Gringos T-Shirt. She has those wonderful, smoky, hazel eyes (Wyatt has the same eyes.) Pale (in a good way) smooth skin, RED lipstick lips. As I said, I was smitten, but also a bit scared to ask her on a date. Hell, she thought I was gay! Why would she go out with me? Self doubt. Afraid of rejection. We stayed friends.

Then one night, at a party with Carter (as friends) I talked to someone that said I should ask Carter on a date. That we would make a great couple, and that she did like me. Never mind the fact that I was a 25 year old man acting like I was in 7th grade - I didn't give a shit. I had clearance that she probably wouldn't say No if I did ask her out on a date. Was it a set-up? I couldn't be sure. All I knew was that I had to ask her out, and soon. I decided then and there that I would ask when I took her home that very evening. As I drove her home, my biggest concern was that she wouldn't realize the difference of going out like we had tonight vs. a more romantic outing...a proper date. So, sitting in front of her house on Wycliff Ave. in my little Red Geo Storm (yes, I owned a Geo Storm - DORK!) I said this:

Do you wanna go out on a real date?

Thankfully, she did, and on May 21, 1992 we had our first real date. Fast forward to November 11, 1993, her 23rd lap around the Sun on Mother Earth. That was the day I asked her to marry me. She said "I do" on July 30, 1994.

It has been nearly 13 years since we met on the street in Deep Ellum. As you've just read, I remember it well. Much has happened since then. For instance, She no longer has her F (bomb) You were from Texas t-shirt (I'd love to see her wear that taking Ethan and Wyatt to their day school.) She sold that big black motorcycle coat in a garage sale. Begrudingly I might add. We've been married for 10 years. We have two wonderful Boy(s). So much has changed it would be impossible to write it all here. So I won't. Instead I'll leave you with two things that remain the same: I'm still smitten, and she thinks I'm gay.

Until I BLOG again..Happy birthday to you!