How I met my husband, the short version:
We met in a pool hall.
How I met Sasha, the long version:
It was the summer of ’99 and I had an active Saturday ahead. First I was to meet a friend of a friend for the first time, who I had heard a lot about; a crazy guy with the birth name Davie Crocket. Then I had THREE parties to attend.
I had a delightful time with Davie Crocket, despite him being a total freak. He was friends with my pal Crow and there were many wacky stories about his strangeness. He was very complimentary to me, which gave me a nice boost to approach the day. We parted ways so he could attend the Lutefisk Festival to eat rank fish and I went to attend a birthday party for a coworker at a downtown pool hall. I was to meet up with Davie & Crow again later at one of the previously mentioned parties.
I showed up to the birthday party fashionably late, but I was still one of the first ones there. I saw my coworker at a pool table alone but for one guy who I assumed was her boyfriend. He was very cute and I had never seen him before. He introduced himself as Sasha. It turned out that they did not know each other; he had just volunteered to play pool with her until her guests arrived. When I found out they did not know each other, I elbowed her hard in the ribs and mentally screamed: Step aside Bitch, he is mine! My game was totally on. I convinced him to join us even after the rest of the guests arrived. I laughed at all his jokes, asked him questions about his home in Wisconsin and got him to give me some tips on shooting pool.
In a brazen move, I invited him to attend the other two parties with me. He was in shorts and wanted to go home and change first, but said he might meet me there. His home was in the exact opposite direction as the party locale. It would take him probably 90 minutes to get home, shower, change and arrive at the destination. I had all my fingers crossed that he would not just decide to bail.
I gave Sasha the address that Davie Crocket had given me and said I hoped to see him later. I headed out to the party, but could not find it. It was supposed to be at Harrison and 18th, but that was a church. On a whim I tried 18th and Harrison and there it was. Davie had given me the wrong address and I in turn had given the wrong address to Sasha. I began to fret that Sasha would spend all that time and gas just to make it and would freak when he realized I had given him a bogus address. I then kicked myself hard in the ass when I realized that I never gave him my phone number and failed to get his, which would solve this problem, plus be an excellent back up if I did not see him that night. As it stood, I felt I would never see him again and that thought saddened me in a telling way.
I waited at the party for what I thought was an appropriate amount of time and then I headed up to the corner in hopes I would see him drive by; a long shot at best. The moment I stepped onto the corner, I heard my name and my heart leapt; Sasha was driving by at that exact moment. The word FATE blinded my vision for a moment and glee shot through my heart.
We hung out for awhile at this party. Crow was busy calling people out of the phone book named Peter Parker and harassing them about Mary Jane and Spider Man. Then it was time to head off to the third and final party. Sasha volunteered to drive Crow, Davie Crocket and me; to my dismay Crow called shot gun and I was relegated to the back seat with Davie who was singing pop tunes at the top of his lungs. It was embarrassing, but Sasha rolled with the punches.
At the final party we really got down to brass tacks and got to know each other. I liked him more and more as the night went on and we seemed to connect in a way that had long been missing in my life.
When he drove me home, I gave him one medium sized kiss on the mouth, smiled and hopped out of the car. The look of surprise and delight on his face said it all.
Three months later he moved in to my tiny studio apartment with me and the last almost eight years have been the sweetest of my life.