Disclaimer: I’m probably going to talk about wedding-planning a lot on this blog. BUT fear not, it is not going to become exclusively a “wedding blog”, especially because our wedding is probably not going to be particularly blog-worthy. (The very wise Meg says it doesn’t have to be.) I’m still going to write about a little bit of everything. I’ll be back more once we’re back in the U.S. this summer. But I’m going to want to write about the planning process here, as we try to have an “awesomely-us” and very A-typical wedding. So what better way to start that with our whole cheesy story?
This is how much life has reinforced to me that my plans don’t mean anything. I distinctly remember being 18-years-old, sitting at Hounddogs Pizza with two friends from high school, our departures for various colleges imminent on the horizon. We were talking about the exciting possibilities of college guys, of course. I remember saying something almost exactly like this: “You’re not going to meet any decent guys at parties or bars…that’s trashy. We should try to meet guys in classes or clubs or something.” Oh, how wise I thought I was!
Fast forward 3.5 years.
February 11, 2009 was a pretty average Wednesday night in Columbus, Ohio. I had recently graduated from college, finally broken up with my way-too-long-way-too-wrong college boyfriend (who I met at orientation…how wholesome!), and moved back home to my parents’ house for the six months I had before I would be leaving for Peace Corps Tanzania. I had just gotten my first serving job to fill my time, and was focused on enjoying my friends and my newfound freedom before leaving for Africa.
This Wednesday was to be a girls’ night with my BFF and some of her college friends near OSU campus. And as much as I hate to admit that this was the scene of the crime, where else would we go on a Wednesday night but out for $10 fishbowls????
Yes sirree, we went to the oh-so-fratty Ugly Tuna Saloona!!! An OSU legend. What can I say, we loved fishbowls. (Still do.) We managed to snag a high-top table, and were just enjoying ourselves chatting and dancing. At the table next to us was a group of three guys. Eventually somehow these guys ended up at our table, introducing themselves. (Zach claims he was the one who made it happen.) The first guy I talked to was one of Zach’s friends, but somehow in the middle of our conversation I got distracted by the curly-haired blonde kid talking to my BFF on the other side of the table (Zach). There was probably some liquid courage involved, because I’m normally not at all outgoing, but I found myself moving over there and sidling up to him. We talked for awhile (more like shouted at each other over the blasting music) and discovered a few common interests in movies, music, etc. And I definitely thought he was beyond attractive. Eventually Zach’s friends wanted to leave (guess they weren’t having as good of luck as he was!) but before they headed out, Zach asked me if I was free to go out on Friday night. I told him sure I was, trying to act all cool like I was a pro at this dating game (I definitely was not), and we exchanged numbers. Of course at the time I was not looking for a relationship (I was about to leave for two years in Africa!) but I was excited for a date (my first after breaking up with my ex, so I guess you could call it a rebound) and some casual flirtation.
Another funny tidbit: I must’ve been on fire that night because after Zach left some other guy came up and offered to buy me a drink. I got him to buy us all another fishbowl (after Zach had totally mooched a lot of our first one!) and then told him to go away. He was a frat-guy greaseball. Lol.
That night when I got home I got a text around 2am. “Don’t forget you’re hanging out with me Friday night!” from the newest contact in my phone, Zach.