how we met

All posts tagged how we met

(read Part 1 here, part 2 here, part 3 here, part 4 here, part 5 here, part 6 here)

Outdoor concerts are great, aren’t they? The atmosphere is so fun and free, the music is great and the food seems to taste even better, just because you’re outside. It’s one of those near-universal experiences people love.

Which is one reason they have tickets. Because if it were free, the venue would fill up too quickly, people would fight for seats and we’d have “Children of the Corn”. And nobody wants that. So, you have to buy a ticket to go.

And that’s exactly what I forgot to do for this date. I thought I could just call up the day before the concert and buy tickets. Turns out, Peter Breinholt is slightly more popular than I gave him credit for. Which means I didn’t have any tickets for the concert on Friday.

But I did get them for Saturday. So, I called Heidi, Jimmy and Heather and we were able to move our busy student schedules out one day and head to the concert on Saturday afternoon. And, believe it or not, all went according to plan.

We had a great time and really enjoyed ourselves. Proof? Here’s the picture:

We had so much fun, we decided to go out again. For 10 hours. A date that included “My Fair Lady” at a small theatre in Orem, Brick Oven and lots of talking until the wee hours. I may or may not have broken her guitar string, too. Which ended up being a great excuse to see her again.

Let’s just say, the ball was rolling. We went on a lot more dates, had tons of fun and I was glad we were dating exclusively. I even went home with her for Thanksgiving with her brother and a friend of theirs.

There were a few bumps in the road before that fateful day on April 30, 2001, when we were sealed in the Salt Lake Temple and a few after. But it’s been, with only one exception, the best thing that ever happened to me. The exception?

Every day since.

(to be continued…for all eternity)

Subway
Image via Wikipedia

(read Part 1 here, part 2 here, part 3 here, part 4 here, part 5 here)

Well, it turns out, timing is everything.  After I asked her out, Heidi attended a personal safety class with a friend of hers.  The purpose of the class was to teach women how to defend themselves in case they’re attacked, a very noble purpose.  Unfortunately, it had the unintended consequence of freaking Heidi out.

From her perspective, she has now given permission to a stranger to take her to a place she’s never been, surrounded by people she doesn’t know and to, potentially, give up her free will and do who knows what.  And I know hypnosis doesn’t work like that, but Heidi didn’t!

So, she cancelled.

The day of the date.

At this point, my psyche was giving me a superior look and saying “I told you so!”  I couldn’t figure out what had happened, but I at least had the presence of mind to ask for a raincheck (yes, I used that word).  What that raincheck would be, I had no idea.

I racked my brain to think of fun date ideas.  We could go to the International Cinema and see a foreign film.  Let’s see, last time I went there, I saw an Argentine film where a man slammed a woman’s hand in the door.  Not the handle side, but the hinge side.  Lovely.  Plus, I think there were bees in it, too.

Okay, that’s out.  The problem was, there were a thousand things we could do and I had no idea what she was into.  Then, I remembered!  She had mentioned she liked Peter Breinholt, a local musician.  And he was doing a concert soon!  And I could buy tickets to it!  And then we could go!

I asked if she was interested in that and, indeed, she was.  I also asked a good friend of mine, Jimmy, and his wife to go with us and they happily agreed.  We would pick everybody up, grab something from Subway to eat at the show (it was an outdoor concert) and head up to Sundance.  Everything was set for Friday.

So, why was I alone on Friday night when I was supposed to be on a date with Heidi?!!

(to be continued…)

Adonis. Marble, antique torso restored and com...
Image via Wikipedia

(read Part 1 here, part 2 here, part 3 here, part 4 here)

Those of you who were in attendance in that copy room (that is to say, none of you) will recall a man standing there with his arms in the air, parading about the room triumphantly.  To say a certain swagger had found its way into my step as I walked back would not be an exaggeration.  A peacock would have felt humble by comparison.  Not even my psyche could deny that Hot Law Library Chick had written my name on her notes.

I returned her notes and went back to my table, plotting my next move.  I held all the cards, now.  She was smitten, head-over-heels, if you will.  To imagine the word “twitterpated” would not be out of the question.  Clearly, her life would have been but a meaningless shell of an existence but that I were a part of it.  You get the idea.

So, how to proceed?  I certainly didn’t want to lose the upper hand or tarnish my Adonis-like image in her mind.  Finally, I settled on my next move.  I decided…to sit at her table the next time I was in the library.  “Yes!”, you’re thinking.  “A real man of action!”  That’s right.

And did I shy away from this bold endeavor (which essentially put me back on the same level I was at the day I first met her)?  No.  I DID sit at her table.  And not only did I decide to sit with her, but I was going to ASK HER OUT!!  ON A DATE!  TOGETHER!!  Did my boldness know no bounds?  IT DID NOT!!

So, in keeping with my debonair, suave way (no cracks in the comments!), I sat with her for probably 2 hours.  We studied, talked here and there, etc.  Plenty of time to ask her on a date.  Did I do it?  Surprisingly, yes.  When?  As she was pushing her chair in to go home for the evening.

That’s right, friends.  Nothing says confidence like waiting until the last second, literally, of a 2-hour window to ask somebody out on a date.  Notwithstanding, she was a true gentlewoman and accepted my bold advances.  She did want to go on a date with me!  She did think it sounded like fun to go see a hypnotist at Johnny B’s.  She was excited for me to call.

So, why did she decide to call me the day of the date and cancel?

(to be continued…)

Celery Stalks
Image by TheDeliciousLife via Flickr

(read Part 1 here, part 2 here, part 3 here)

You probably noticed that I said “Heidi, right?”, as though I hadn’t just read her name in my Palm Pilot 10 seconds ago.  There’s a fine line between “stalker” and whatever you call a guy who’s trying to woo a girl (“wooer”?  “pursuer”?  Anyway…) and I wasn’t sure if having an appointment written in my Palm Pilot with a near-stranger’s name in it crossed that line.  So, I acted like I had just accessed the vast archive of my memory banks and solicited, in an instant, the name of a girl I had run across four months ago.  Are there ethical issues with that?  Maybe, but shut up.

Two episodes ago, I mentioned that Heidi’s psyche had helped me out a bit.  This was the manifestation of that help.  You see, the only thing Heidi’s psyche ever allows her to change is underwear.  She is a rather static person.  Which is why she was living in the same group of dorms and studying in the same library.  What a great blessing!  To my own psyche, I say, “seriously, you couldn’t help a brother out once in a while?”  Anyway.

Heidi’s reaction was one of surprise.  I could see that she didn’t remember my name so I stood there, waiting patiently, knowing I had the upper hand.  She said “yeah, what was your name again?”  Upper hand or no, you can’t hear that question without getting bucked down a few notches.  “m”, I stammered, not sure where to go from here.

Then, I happened to notice she had a copy of “The Iliad”.  I was taking a Humanities class from a crazy man who expected me to read that book in 2 weeks, besides the fact that I was taking other classes.  And he hadn’t given me any notes about the book.  Well, Heidi was studying the same book for a Philosophy class and SHE HAD NOTES!

And I had an idea.

I went to put my things down and came back, after a couple of minutes.  No, I didn’t sit there with her.  I didn’t want to seem like I was coming on strong.  What am I, a psycho who writes her name down four months ago so I can find her again?  Of course not, HA HA HA!!  What a silly idea!

When I came back, I told her of my dilemma and asked if I could borrow her notes to copy them.  Well, she was more than happy to share her notes with me.  She picked them up and handed them over and I took the coveted prize to the copy room, straining both nostrils the entire way to see if I could catch the hint of a scent.  Okay, that’s not true and it’s a little creepy.

Now, up until this point, I have painted Heidi as a pristine goddess, capable of no wrong.  Unfortunately, this next part of the story has proven, in later years, that my wife is willing to mercilessly assault the truth for her own wicked designs.  But I digress.

I put the pages on the copy machine and ran them through.  As was my habit, I checked them after they were done to make sure they were copied correctly.  As I leafed through the pages, some writing caught my eye.  Upon closer examination, I realized she had written on one of the pages and this writing had copied through.  What was this writing, you ask?

My name.

(to be continued)

Palm Vx Handheld
Image via Wikipedia

(read Part 1 here, part 2 here)

Technology is wonderful, no?  We carry more computing power in the palm of our hand than the entire shuttle that landed on the moon (that’s right, Neil Armstrong.  You would have been safer riding to the moon on an iPhone (there’s an app for that!))  And the best use of that power is, of course, keeping track of the ladies!

I had recently sold some textbooks and bought a Palm Vx with it.  Oh yeah, loving the monochrome!  Anyway, it occurred to me that I could write myself a reminder for, say, the next August and look for Heidi in the law library.  So, I wrote it down.

The rest of the semester, I sat with her now and then and we’d talk and get to know each other.  But I never asked her out because I didn’t think I’d see her again.  It just didn’t make sense to spend money on somebody else’s wife.

Well, summer came and I had a blast.  I had great roommates who invited me to their parties and I met lots of fun people.  I even dated a girl from Mexico that I met at a dance.  See, I have a different psyche when I speak Spanish and my Spanish psyche is way cooler than my English psyche.  If I ever run for political office, I’m going to do it in Spanish, with a translator.

Anyway, at the end of the summer I decided to move out my condo and into an apartment closer to campus.  I picked Liberty Square because it was close to campus and had a reputation as a fun place to live.  What I didn’t know until I moved in was that it was also a filthy stink-hole.  Well, just my apartment.  It was awful.

But, I had cool roommates and a great ward.  I was ready to enjoy myself and meet lots of new people.  You’ll notice I’m not mentioning Heidi much and there’s a reason for that:

I had forgotten about her.

She was all the way in Nevada and I was in Provo and somehow the memory had faded.  But, little did I know, salvation was to come from my pocket.  Because that’s where I kept my Palm Pilot.

One day in late August, the first Wednesday after school had started, I found myself walking into the law library.  As I did so, I was looking at my calendar to see what classes I needed to study for.  And what did I see?  A little note that said:

“Look for Heidi in the law library”

THAT’S RIGHT!!  I had completely forgotten about hot law library chick (yes, that was my nickname for her (while she wasn’t around))!  And I had her name, so I didn’t have to call her “hot law library chick”!  Well, this was one assignment I was going to ace.

I walked straight to our old table and found…nothing.  I looked at the next table and…nothing.  I looked at the next 5 tables and nothing.  But the 6th table had…nothing.  Finally, at the last table in the row, was seated…her.  The object of my affection for the last two months (not counting a break in the summer).

I walked right up to her with a smile and said, “Heidi, right?”

(to be continued)

April 2008 BYU Commencement, with {{w|Cecil O.
Image via Wikipedia

(Read Part 1 here)

She said “no”, what did you think she said?  In other words, nobody was sitting there and I was welcome to sit down.  So I did.  And boy did we hit it off.  I was holding her in my arms, kissing her passionately, within 20 minutes.  It was unbelievable.

Because it didn’t happen.  Because for that to have happened, I would have had to talk to her.  And, as we know from Part 1, my psyche would never allow that to happen (you suck, psyche!)  So, for the first 30 minutes or so, we both sat there in silence, pretending to read our textbooks and ignoring the incredible attraction between us.

Well, I was doing that.  She was probably actually studying.  Yeah, she was studying.  But, after about 30 minutes, she took a break and then I pounced.  I introduced myself and started talking to her.  I have no idea what we talked about, but I came away with one piece of very important information:

She was a freshman.

Well, that sucked.  Not because of some stupid notion that I wouldn’t date a freshman or anything.  It was purely for practical reasons that I mourned my bad luck.  You see, I knew she would be going home to Nevada (pronounced “Nev-ah-dah”, Heidi gets upset if you mispronounce that)  and I would be staying in Provo.

We only had three weeks until school was out, which meant I had to develop a strong relationship with her in three weeks (possible but not probable), which probably wasn’t going to happen (have you met my psyche?)

My other option was to hope I could find her at BYU next year.  This was a fool’s dream.  Who knew if she would even come back to the Y or if she’d get married over the summer or move to a new apartment and study somewhere else?  Plus, there were about 33,000 students at BYU that year.  She was the needle in the BYU haystack.

Fortunately, although my psyche was doing me no favors, hers did, although I didn’t know it (more on that later).  Combined with the wonders of modern technology, I saw a glimmer of hope.

(to be continued)