Fun Monday Meeting!

Before I begin, I have a big shout out to Bond at Bond's Big Leather Couch for the fabulous masthead you see today! Thank you, Bond, for helping out the Neophtye!

Janet is this week's hostess, and she let us VOTE for our assigment! The winner was "how we met our significant other," which in my case, wasn't under the best of circumstances.

I had just recently moved to this tiny town in Arkansas, having graduated from a 42,000-student university. I had grown up near Houston, Texas, and had only twice visited my uncle in this town, where he had a job waiting for me. My parents moved the same month to Laguna Beach, CA

My first month here, I auditioned and got the part of Anelle in the local production of "Steel Magnolias" - perfect for a newbie, and a way to throw myself into the community. I had broken it off with my boyfriend at college, but he refused to admit that distance would hinder our relationship. He wanted to "date" - and the play's opening weekend, he flew in to spend four days with me. The week of dress rehearsals, I had reached an unfortunate conclusion: I was NOT ready for country life. The nearest liquor store was over an hour and a half drive away, on long, winding roads - NOTHING like the straight and narrows of Texas. My job was NOT paying what my Bachelor's degree was worth. And my friends consisted of older women from work, who had nothing better to do than sit around and bitch about their husbands.

On Wednesday, October 20th, 1992, I had reached a total breaking point. I became distraught at the office, sobbing frantically, ready to change my life, even move to California. I had gone from the city life, where you aren't expected to look anyone in the eye - to a tight-knit community, where you are expected to know everyone's cousin's brother, and the names of all their children by each of their three wives/girlfriends. I just wasn't feeling it.

A lady at work took drastic action and dragged me to the house of complete strangers. She assured me that it would be okay - they had come from California and had adjusted just fine. I didn't want to go ANYWHERE, with my tear-streaked face, rumpled clothing and piss-poor outlook on my future. I couldn't even react as she tossed me in her car and whisked me away. As I was ushered thru their kitchen and out onto their deck, I vaguely noticed a man on the kitchen phone, engaged in a serious discussion. Hitching and sobbing, I was introduced to three strangers. A glass of wine appeared in front of me, and I sat there desperately trying not to weep and wail out loud while conversation floated around me. A few minutes later, the man on the phone joined us.I don't think Roger and I spoke five words to each other that night - after all, I was still a little addled and surely a fright to look at! After an hour or so, we all said our goodbye's. I made my exit by gracefully called the hostess' husband the wrong name - especially considering he was still wearing his work clothes with his name embroidered on the front.

I left that night with something tugging at me. After the play that weekend, and after convincing the ex-boyfriend that he was PERMANENTLY going to be an ex, my thoughts turned to the man from that night. I had been on some HORRIBLY disappointing dates during my stay - but something was intriguing about him. He wasn't like the men I had dated before. I had no clue who he was, but something told me I had to see him again. If for no other reason than to convince him I wasn't normally a blubbering moron.The next week, he called. I spent almost every night of the next two months with him. He was a musician - and 15 years older than me (he didn't look it). I wasn't sure about the age thing - but I was spending time with someone who was smart, funny, and a caring person - who was NOT looking for a serious relationship, much less a marriage.

When did I know for sure that I was going to marry him? I had my suspicions that first week, but it really crystallized when I went to visit my parents in December...the first week was okay, but the second week? HELL. Not b/c of my parents, but b/c I couldn't stand the thought of being away from him another second. The days at the California paradise seemed a prison compared to the frigid conditions of Arkansas with Roger. And here we are, 15 years later, happier than ever.

Now go read other sweet stories from Fun Monday participants, while I go vomit from the mushiness of this post.