That night, the concert did not disappoint except for the fact
that they didn't arrive on stage until almost midnight. No matter,
though, by that point I was pleasantly buzzed and was singing my heart
out, blissfully unaware of the presence of my future husband. As it so
happened, he was standing next to me. During the evening, we had
noticed one another across a crowded room (just like the old cliche
says), and apparently, I smiled at him. Later, he realized with
disappointment that I tend to smile at everyone without realizing it,
but by that point, it didn't matter anymore. Somehow, throughout the
show, we had ended up next to one another, at which point my friends
magically disappeared. I felt happy and relaxed and open to chatting
with him because the show was almost over and I knew I wasn't looking
to meet anyone. So there was no pressure. Nothing could possibly
happen.
After a few
pleasantries about the band and some basic chit-chat, my focal point was
back to the stage where Ike was swaying drunkenly and dangerously
close to the edge of the stage. It was one of the last songs of the
night, "Commie Drives a Nova" and Erik was about to make his move. He
cautiously asked me if I would like to get together sometime, to which I
replied a carefree, "Sure!" In my mind, there was no way anything
would come of this. He was very cute, but probably not my type, and I
had big plans to go overseas soon. There was no place or time for
something to develop. As the music died down and the bar began to clear
out, he handed me his phone so I could input my number. (I found out
later that he was too nervous to plug in the numbers himself.) We
exchanged smiles, said good night, and went our separate ways.
Two
days, later he called me for a date. I accepted and plans were made
to meet for a drink two nights later. As the day of the date grew
closer, I grew nervous. I frantically told my friends, "Forget it.
I'm canceling! There's no point. I'm going to an international job
fair in a few months! I don't want to meet anyone. He's not my type!"
My friends vehemently argued with me. "You are NOT
canceling. He IS your type! It's not going to hurt to have one drink
with him." Finally, I relented with a bitter, "Fine. But I'm not
wearing anything cute. I'm dressing down!"
I
drove with apprehension to the date. I could barely recall what he
looked like, and I was positive that he seemed preppier than I would
prefer. As I approached the restaurant where I was meeting him, I saw
him standing outside. And I swooned. I mean, literally swooned. I
didn't know a person could really swoon. He was so handsome, and
contrary to my previous beliefs, he appeared to be exactly my type.
After an awkward hello, we made our way inside where we proceeded to
have a date that was straight out of the movies. We had so much to
talk about and so much chemistry, that neither of us wanted the date to
end. I remember that night as I drove home that I had the sensation
of falling. And it was oh so scary and yet so wonderful at the same
time.
As we had more and more
dates and our relationship grew, we saw Ike many more times together.
And at each show, we would have the sweet sensation of remembrance as
we saw each other out of our peripheral vision, similar to that first
night.
