It's been almost 14 years since my husband and I stood as young 20 somethings in a church in front of all our friends, family, and a bunch of other people (seriously, I didn't know half the people at my wedding), and recited our vows. It was less then two years prior that we had met, in a bar, while I was on a date with someone else (ah yes, the fun of being 21).
We are often asked to retell the story of our first date as it is not what normally happens on first dates, or at least not what you plan to happen on normal first dates. I should rewind for a minute, of how Steve and I met. It was a few months after my 21st birthday and I had moved down to North Carolina a few months prior (for school, for a boy, for who knows what). I didn't know many people in NC so I was traveling back to Rhode Island frequently and crashing on my sisters floor (yes, it's as comfortable as it sounds). It was the first time I had been single since I was 15 and I was on the prowl. I had met a boy at a Fourth of July party and he invited me for a night out at a club in Providence, it was a Country Western Bar, not exactly my scene, but being on the prowl and being 21 I was up for anything.
Throughout the night I met a lot of new people as everyone there were friends or friends of friends. At one point two guys came up to me and introduced themselves as Steve and Steve (no confusion there). One of the Steve's had given me a card with a number and it said "Steve and Steve" on it. The next night I called and thought I was talking to the Steve I had a bit of a crush on... imagine my surprise when I opened the door and the other Steve was standing there. I think I did well with hiding my shock and we met up with the other Steve and some other people, it was just a friendly night as I was leaving to go back to North Carolina the next day.
Once back in North Carolina I got an email from Steve (the one that showed up at the door, the one that I eventually married) and it was all about how I should of stayed around and we could of went out in Boston. Since I had nothing better to do, and since it was the summer of finding myself, I packed up my car and headed back to Rhode Island, 16 and a half hours later I was back.
I emailed him and told him we should go out. He picked me up at my sisters (yes, I was back on the oh so comfy floor) and we headed out to play some mini-golf. The talk seemed to flow and as we got closer to the golf place, the only strange thing was he was continuously adjusting his belt and shorts as he was driving. This continued once we got out of the car and the entire time we were mini-golfing. I tried not to think to much into it, just thought he was strange and maybe this date wasn't the best idea, but hey, maybe dinner would be better. After I totally kicked his ass in golf (okay, so I don't remember who won, but the story sounds so much better when I say I kicked his ass all the way to Mexico), we decided to take a walk on the beach... this is where things start to get really strange.
After walking for about 5 minutes (and about 30 more belt adjustments) Steve said he had to use the bathroom (sounds like a normal human need). I waited and waited and waited, I stood for about 15 minutes, I paced for another 15, I sat for another 15 (I was even hit on by a passerby). At this point I thought I had been stood up, walked out on, left to my own devices. I didn't have a cell phone as they weren't as common as they are now. I was sitting, plotting what my next move would be, when Steve finally showed up. He was a bit pale and said he wasn't feeling so great. We decided to leave the beach and head to dinner.
Soon after pulling out of the parking lot he said he needed a drug store, we stopped at the grocery store and he said he needed some Mylanta Gas! Seriously! He needed to buy anti-gas medicine on our first date. To make matters worse he didn't have any cash on him so "I" had to buy him anti-gas medicine on our first date. Back in the car we stopped for gas (the kind that goes in your car, although from what I had just bought him I was sure he had enough of his own in his body to power us home). I saw him start to pump the gas and then he disappeared... again I sat for over 15 minutes wondering what the heck was going on, and at this point I wondered how I could get out of the rest of the date. I didn't know much about this guy other then he liked to leave me sitting alone for long bouts of time and he had tremendous amounts of gas and no cash.
Hooray, after 20 minutes he returned to the car, with a box of mints and a green complexion. He said he didn't feel well and dinner wouldn't work out, and he was going to drive me home. Two minutes after pulling onto the freeway I saw that he didn't look good (he looked terrible) and I asked if he wanted me to drive, he said yes. So we did a Chinese fire drill on the side of the highway and I got into the drivers seat of a company car belonging to some guy who's last name I didn't even know (I laughed to myself, I never had a problem finding a date, why was I with Sir-disappears-and-has-gas-man).
We made it about 10 minutes with me driving when he pokes me and gives the universal sign for I'm going to toss my cookies (you know, the hand over the mouth and bulging eyes). I pulled over (just in time) and he jumped out and began vomiting all over the side of the highway (seriously can this date get worse). Back in the car he popped a mint (at least he had that going for him) and off we continued. I should add here that he lived two hours away in Massachusetts and once I realized how sick he was, I offered to drive him home (it was either that or I would of ended up with him on my sisters oh so comfy floor... um... no thanks).
On the way to Massachusetts I had to stop several more times for him to jump out and empty whatever he could have left in his stomach (at one point I started laughing out loud, this was my life, this is how things went, never the normal way). Finally we got to his house, you can use your imagination, but with someone vomiting on the side of the highway every 15 minutes conversation really didn't flow, which is why he probably failed to mention that he still lived with his parents. Yes, not only was I on a date with Sir-pukes-a-lot, but now I got to meet his parents too (I generally like to be prepared ahead of time before meeting someone's parents).
We walked into a beautiful house that felt cozy yet huge and I was introduced to his Father and his Mother, who mentioned she had made the guest room up for me (um, I don't even know this guys last name, and after tonight I really don't want to see him again, so thanks but no thanks). As much as I wanted to turn and get out of there (my sisters oh so comfy floor was actually sounding quite appealing at this point), I politely took a seat and made small talk with Steve's parents while he indulged in a Hoodsie Cup (nothing more sexy then a man eating a tiny ice cream with a wooden spatula).
Mentally I was trying to decide when it wouldn't be rude to run out of there... I mean leave and bid everyone a goodnight. Unfortunately I was too polite and Steve (who now seemed to be feeling much better) saw that he got his college video in the mail and asked me to stay and watch it (NOOOO, that's what I was screaming in my head), "sure" is what I actually said. So there I was sitting on the couch next to Sir-gas-and-puke-and-hoodsie-cups Mom and Dad and watched a video with people I had never met (GET ME OUT OF HERE). Finally the video was over and I said I had a two hour drive home, I said goodbye and Steve walked me out to his company car (which I had to drive home since I didn't have a car there, which meant I had to see him again). We briefly made plans to meet up the next day so I could give him his car back and I lunged into the drivers seat before he could attempt any type of physical contact (can you imagine, ewww)!
After spending the two hour drive laughing at what had just transpired I settled onto my sister's floor with visions of meeting up with the person who could have possibly just made the worst first impression to give back his car the next day and say see you later (or never)! The next day I tried to call and call and call and he never answered, finally I looked up his parents number (remember when we used to call 411 to do that) and his Dad answered. He explained that Steve's appendix had ruptured and he was in surgery! Well, that explained a lot about what transpired the day before. But now I was stuck with his car, he was in surgery, and this was all just getting to be too much (really all I had hoped for was a night out and a free dinner), now I find out that he could die, crap!
Being me, I went to dinner at my cousins that night and we all joked about how I killed some guy on a first date (I know real sensitive, but humor always makes things better). I found out later he made it through surgery and out of feeling guilt for laughing, or having his car, or just not having anything to do I decided to visit him in the hospital a couple of days later. After getting lost and driving an hour out of the way (this still happens to me all the time) I found the hospital and headed up to his room. The second I walked into his hospital room I began cursing myself for thinking visiting him was a good idea (the fact that I didn't turn and flee when I saw him was a miracle in itself). I walked in with a fake smile plastered to my face and there he sat, in a chair... His hair was sticking up, he hadn't shaved in days (which isn't a big deal for most, but he has one of those chia pet beards, you know they grow back within two minutes of shaving). I sat in a chair next to him and attempted to make small talk, this was very hard to do as his hospital gown was not buttoned properly and his bum was on display (my discomfort at this point was at a 20 on a scale from 1-10).
I went in there trying to let him know I was sorry he had surgery, I was trying to get to know him better, perhaps he's really a great guy, but that was not to be discovered on this little visit to his hospital room. Soon after I sat to talk to him he began to cough, which made him wince in pain, which made his hospital gown cover even less, which made trying to not let my eyes look in horror as his bum was more and more exposed almost impossible. And if conversation had lacked a couple of nights before when he was diving out of the car onto the side of the highway, today's little visit was even worse (could that even be possible). I stayed as long as possible and then practically ran out of his room and out into the sunshine of the parking lot.
So that's our first date. I am sure you are asking yourself how after such an unsuccessful first date (and follow up hospital visit) could result in 14 years of marriage and two kids, lets just say I was crazy (just kidding). Once he went home from the hospital out of the goodness of my heart (who am I kidding, I was bored and his parents had a pool) I started to visit him. We really hit it off (when he wasn't vomiting or wincing in pain he was really cute and interesting). He explained that when he left me sitting on the beach and at the gas station he had been vomiting (ah, now that makes more sense then him standing me up). I guess you can say, "The rest is history".
