I met a boy. Obvious, is it not? But how I met him is a pretty good story.
For starters, I went to Barcelona to meet up with a friend. From day one she had 2 bars that we had to go to. A mutual friend had said they were the best so we were obligated to go get our early 20s American drink on (aka too much drink and too little walking in a straight line).
We looked for La Ovella Negra (one of them) two nights in a row. Two nights! Well, we walked around for about 20 minutes until we lost interest and went somewhere else. On day three, during my travel buddy's nap, I went to play foosball with some fellow travelers from our hostel. Guess where we went.
When Ms. Travel buddy awoke we decided we were going to go there that night. We got out our best newly purchased Eurotrash clothes and prepared to get beautiful. We looked hot, or so we thought.
By the time we got to La Ovella Negra it was already packed. We ordered a pitcher of sangeria, because that's how I roll baby, and settled down on a bench next to the foosball table.
What I didn't realize was that a certain Mr. Rant was searching for a table at the exact same time and had spotted me. He honed in on me and started in the direction of the foosball table. His friend saw the target and stopped him. He informed him that he didn't have a chance. The only reason I could come up with was that they noticed my strong personality and intellect from afar. That or the green mesh tank and tight black pants made his friend attempt the 'cock block' due to an anti-eurotrash tendency.
My stubborn husband, oh how I found that quality attractive in the beginning, went anyway. He walked right up with his two friends following behind him and asked if we'd like to play foosball. I went to inform him that we suck when I met his eyes. In full horrible chick flick form, I turned to my friend and told her that and I quote "This man is going to change my life. I don't know how but I can just feel it!"
Barf
We played a bit of foosball and finally settled down at an open table nearby. The group conversation was stalling and I could clearly see that he wanted a piece of that mesh tank, so I asked Mr. Rant if he would like to play darts.
Once we started playing he complained that I was too close to him and was making it hard for him to concentrate. He was totally lying because I was kicking some serious ass. I used to be a pretty damn good dart player. Being the flirt I was, I moved closer. Of course he upped the ante on my turn and kissed my neck.
People, something serious happened at that moment. In the middle of that bar, while throwing a dart, my nerves awoke and sent feelings to parts of my body I did not realize, at the young age of 22, were connected to the neck. I missed the target entirely and hit a table full of people.
To compensate for my embarrassment, Mr. Rant kissed me. He will tell you otherwise but he is lying.
It's all down hill from there. A kiss led to kissing which led to him asking me to come home with him. I had never done that. I was good prude little girl with limited sexual partners. So what was my response? Yes! Did you not read the part about the neck?!
We parted ways in the morning and had no plans to meet up since my friend and I were already meeting up with other people. He gave me his number on a scrap of paper, which I still have in my wallet to this day, and we parted ways.
Since I'm ever so classy, I drunk dialed him at 4am when we got back from the club. I booty called the man and he came over! Actually, he told me to come over and I said that I would be crazy to walk through Barcelona a bit drunk all by myself in the middle of the night. Being the true gentleman he is, he came and picked me up.
It was a slippery slope from there. When we parted ways we had no intentions of meeting up again. We always say that we called each other on our games. We were the only one the other couldn't forget.
After only 2 weeks together in Europe, he showed up in California about 5 months after we met. He moved into my place and we were married 2 months later.
