I met my husband in a bar. There, I said it. No finesse, no hiding it, no trying to make it sound more romantic than it was. We met in a bar. It was karaoke night, and I can’t sing, but I went every Wednesday night in college with my sorority sisters and we would belt out everything from Madonna’s Material Girl to Hank Jr.’s Family Tradition. This may explain in part why I always had a hard time making it to my Thursday morning classes on time. My now husband happened to be there on this particular karaoke night because one of his favorite bartenders was moving and it was his going away party. He and his friends were regulars at this nightspot, but usually avoided it when school was in session because they didn’t like having to deal with the annoying college girls like me. But this night was an exception.
It wasn’t love at first sight. It wasn’t even like at first sight. We didn’t see each other across a crowded room and drop everything we were doing and run to each other. Nope. None of that movie worthy stuff. I saw him and recognized him only as the (good looking) older brother of someone I knew. I had plans to stay in Atlanta that upcoming Summer and thought it would be nice to have a local available to show me around. And maybe buy me a meal or two. So, in between belting out what I’m sure were horrible sounding karaoke numbers, I made my way over to him and said, “Hi, you don’t know me, but I know who you are. I’m living in Atlanta now and you should take me out to dinner some time.” Then I handed him a napkin with my phone number on it and walked away. That was late March. He didn’t call me until late June. Apparently I make a really good first impression!
We may have had a slow start, but once he called me things moved quickly. We started dating in July and were engaged that December. We were two peas in a pod. I had dropped out of school (taken a break, as my parents like to say), and we were both working in the hospitality industry. He worked at a fancy hotel and I worked as a bartender. Our motto was “Work Hard, Play Hard.” We would both work until one or two in the morning and then go out until four or five. We frequently went back to that nightspot where we had met so many months before. We were young and living it up in the big city.
Why am I sharing all of this? We have been married nearly 15 years and for most of that time when someone would ask how we met, we would simply say that we were both “out in Atlanta” and ran into each other, or that “I knew his brother and that’s how we met.” We rarely acknowledged that we were big time party-ers whose paths crossed because we liked to hang out at the same places. We hardly ever said that we bonded over our mutual failures at our first attempts at college. We never told people that finding someone else who is the black sheep in their family is a powerful thing. And we certainly never gave credit to God for bringing us together. Isn’t that an oxymoron? To say that you met your spouse, and God, in a bar?
But that’s the truth. That’s how it happened. We are a love story of God never leaving you no matter how hard you try to push him away. We are a shining example of just how far God will go to redeem his children. We shouldn’t be embarrassed that we met in a bar. We should embrace it. I now have a throw pillow in our home that says, “It all started with a phone number on a napkin,” and that’s the truth. Anyone who knows us knows that we still like to have a good time. We didn’t completely abandon parties or going out once we got married. We still live by the motto “Work Hard, Play Hard.” The nature of our playing has just been toned down. Most of the entertaining we do happens at our own home. We love to cook together and have friends over for family friendly get-togethers that often last until the wee hours. We are still fun-loving and every bit as in love as we were when we got married. We recognize how richly we have been blessed and how fortunate we are to have found each other in spite of ourselves. Neither of us was looking for a lifetime partner when we met, but we found each other anyways.
For Christmas this year, my husband bought me what is probably my favorite gift ever. It is a bracelet that has the GPS coordinates of that little bar where we first met. Looking at it, no one would know that the coordinates are for a bar. But I do. I put it on Christmas day and have no plans to take it off. Every time I look down at my wrist I can’t help but smile. It is a constant reminder of where we were and how far we have come. It’s a reminder of all the fun we had and all the good times yet to come. It’s a way to reflect on the people we were when we met and the people we have grown to be together. It is the gift that reminds me that everyone has a story. No one needs to sugarcoat their stories. No matter where you were or where you met, you can see God’s divine intervention in your life. You shouldn’t be embarrassed by your story, but embrace it as something that has helped to make you who you are. I met my husband in a bar. That’s my story. What’s yours?
