Like many couples out there, my husband Jason and I have very few shows we enjoy watching together. I’m more of a Housewives of ‘all cities’ kind of gal, while he prefers The Walking Dead. However, when How I Met Your Mother is on TV, the gloves come off. There is no longer any bribery, whining or sulking for the remote control. And on the rare occasion that our two toddlers get to bed at a decent hour, there is even some – dare I say it? – cuddling (gasp).
Often, we’ve joked about what we will tell our two girls, Molly and Zoe, about how we met when they get older. Let’s just say our story is not exactly the stuff that romance novels or popular sitcoms are made of. Just like our favourite show’s lead character, Ted Mosby, I would start off like this:
And this girls, is how I met your father…
It was the summer of 2002 when I headed to a local karaoke bar to meet a few friends for my going away party. I was 21 years old, newly single and just a week away from leaving for Kamloops to attend the journalism program at UCC. What I didn’t realize was that the path I was on was about to take a slight detour… to the altar.
Back then, I was pretty timid and had zero experience picking up men. I was also pretty green in the gills when it came to drinking, but thanks to my new friends tequila and red wine, I had no problem making my big move when he sat at our table.
On that particular night, your father just happened to come to the pub by chance. If he hadn’t, I wouldn’t be telling you this story.
I was probably slurring my words a little when I patted the seat next to me and told him to come a little closer, giving him my sexiest ‘come hither’ look. I’m sure I actually just looked like I had something stuck in my eye, but that’s beside the point.
He obliged and the flirtation fest began. You could have cut that sexual tension with a knife. I bought us both a shot of tequila and raised a glass to him for being hot. For the first time in my life, I felt like I had game.
When the song Angel Eyes by Jeff Healy (our future wedding song) came on, I dragged him to dance floor. I’m sure we made quite the spectacle of ourselves, especially when I leaned in for a big, sloppy kiss that turned into a public make out session. Yes, your mother was acting like quite the harlot. And yes, she did go home that night, alone.
That night, we exchanged numbers and he vowed to call me the next day. Luckily, he didn’t make me wait.
For our first date he picked me up in his red Mustang convertible and we headed to White Rock beach, the very site of where we fell in L-O-V-E (cue the sappy ballad). We vowed to see each other every single day until I left for school, no strings attached.
Well, that week flew by and your father decided to follow me to Kamloops the very next weekend for a visit. Little did I know, and probably better that I didn’t, that he was looking at engagement rings while I was in class. Remember, it had only been two weeks since we had cordially met….
Week-after-week, we took turns driving the long four-hour-long trek to see each other, even when the roads were blanketed with treacherous snow and ice. When we weren’t together, we were spending long hours chatting on the phone.
On our four-month anniversary we headed to the same spot on the pier at White Rock beach where we had talked for hours on our first date. It was December and the snow was really starting to come down. I thought your father was trembling from the cold, but what I didn’t realize was he really nervous and trying desperately not to drop my engagement ring.
Many assumed we wouldn’t last since we got married so quickly and so young. Who could blame them? We were just two crazy kids in love who had absolutely no clue how hard the road ahead would be. And believe me, it has not always been a smooth ride. This upcoming August, we celebrate 14 years of being together and our 12th year of marriage.
And, that girls, is how I met your father.