A story I don't often tell is how I met my wife.
It must be carefully told and followed by a quick transition to the “bright side.”
If told improperly, it quickly removes all energy out of a conversation.
But no matter how you slice it, our “meet not-so-cute” story just plain sucks.
Because I met my wife at a funeral.
Yep. A funeral.
Here's the short story:
In 2004 four buddies invited me to motorcycle week.
I didn't go.
They went without me.
After a long day of riding, one of my buddies got tired and rode ahead.
He never made it to the hotel.
He was one of my best friends.
And he was my wife's first cousin.
Oddly enough, I was the only one of his friends to have never met her before then.
So at the funeral, my buddies, my now-wife and her friends were all standing together.
I was introduced to her, extended my condolences, and then stepped back into the group.
At some point one of my buddies suggested we all grab something to eat after the funeral was over.
We all did.
After the meal, we went to the bar for a drink or two.
I don't drink much, so I offered to be the sober one and drive.
Nobody got “drunk,” but a couple of folks (including her) took me up on the offer.
By the time I dropped her off I knew I wanted to see her again.
So I casually asked if she minded if I kept in touch.
So I did.
A great friendship began that day.
A relationship didn't.
But after a few weeks we were inseparable.
And after a few years we got married.
So there you have it.
I'll go out on a limb and guess that none of you dreamed you would meet your spouse the way I met mine.
But that's how we met.
It was a very, very sad day.
But something beautiful came out of it.
(Something I almost messed that up… or else you wouldn't be reading this, would you?)
I'd love to hear your “meet cute” story if you're willing to share!
I certainly hope it's cuter than ours…