{Originally published in 2009. Updated for today.}
I went to Paducah with an acquaintance 14 years ago and ended up meeting my husband.
OK, so, Greg and I didn’t get married that night, but we started to get to know each other. And from there, we went on a date the next week, broke up a couple of times over the next few years because of my insecurities, had a long-distance relationship across the state during his first year of law school, lived closer together but still not in the same town, got married, lived in an apartment, moved into what used to be his great-grandmother’s house, started new jobs, experienced a trying time of trying to have a baby, adopted our beautiful daughter, started a real estate company, bungy jumped, moved 1.1 miles across town, and adopted our son.
I suppose that covers the past 14 years.
Yes, 14 years. That seems like a long time.
But in other ways it seems like just yesterday when Greg and I struck up conversation at Steak-n-Shake in Paducah surrounded by his friends, my friends, and our mutual acquaintance. I say “mutual acquaintance” because Feb. 7, 1998, was the only time either of us hung out with Darryl. Turns out it was a good social outing, considering we really haven’t stopped talking since.
After Steak-n-Shake, Greg and I talked the entire ride back from Murray {That’s about 45 minutes, for those of you unfamiliar with the drive …} while we were two of three passengers in the back seat of a small car. I remember being impressed he knew where Oldham County was. {Little did I know that geography would be one of his many trivia specialties!} And I remember not being impressed with his tapered-leg jeans. But I knew that conversation and character were important than his fashion.
After my friend and I got out of Darryl’s car in front of my dorm, I was on my way to the door when I heard Greg asked for my number. I said told it to him quickly, as I kept walking. He ended up calling a few days later, after some convincing from his friends Laura and Sarah {who became my friends too} and asked me if I liked ice cream. Um, yeah, I suppose. I didn’t mention that it was February and maybe there was a more suitable dessert. {I later learned there is never any more suitable dessert for Greg than ice cream.} We made plans for a date to Baskin-Robbins on the following Saturday, which happened to be Valentine’s Day.
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