What's Your Love Story?

Hello, Dolls

I decided it would be fun to tell the story of how I met my fiance. Everyone loves a good love story, right?

It was October 2009, and I had just been dumped for the final time by my on-off boyfriend of three years. Hell hath no fury like a bitter woman scorned, and I attempted to cope with furious scrawls in the back of a notebook I carried around with me. I was a mess, but surprisingly, a sense of awakening seemed to slowly be breaking through as well.

You know the phase everyone goes through, where they would rather be in a crappy relationship, then be alone? They are so scared of being by themselves they will put up with pretty much any type of treatment no matter how vile it is? If you've never endured this, consider yourself lucky, because 99% of the girls I know, have. It's a maturity thing. Well I'd reached the point (and age) where I finally thought "screw it". I don't care if I'm alone, I don't care if I don't have someone to lean on. Something clicked in my head. You have to KNOW what you want before you will ever get it, right?

So three days after my world came crashing down, I was headed home on the train, scrawling in said therapeutic notebook. The train was half full, and some guy sat down next to me.

I hate the train. I hate sitting next to complete strangers. I hate people invading my personal space. I leaned closer towards the window, but not before giving the guy a quick once over. Tall, business clothes, leather jacket, nice hair, 26ish? ... looked kind of Russian in my opinion. Oh well, he definitely didn't seem to notice me (probably had a gf/wife he was heading home to), so I turned back to the emo world I'd created on the Hilroy page, attempting to conjure up the perfect word to express the despair I was feeling.

"Can I ask what you're writing about?" a sweet voice interrupted by thoughts about 10 minutes later.

As I said before, I hate the train. I most definitely hate when strangers on the train try and strike up conversation. But (shocker) I didn't feel creeped out, or invaded. I turned to look at the guy sitting next to me and saw a non threatening, almost comforting face looking back at me.

"Oh ummm," I stumbled embarrassingly. "Just some poetry." (Poetry? Who writes poetry in this century? I knew what he was thinking. Now I was the creepy stranger on the train he wished he didn't talk to)

"Cool!" He replied. "Do you like writing a lot?"

Again, I don't know what it was about him, but there was something that made it so easy to talk to him.

We continued talking for the remainder of the train ride, until he got off a couple stops before me. I had no doubt been wondering in my head (like any girl does) what would happen up until that point. How do you casually pick someone up on the train, without looking like a creep? Was he just wanting some pleasant conversation with the person next to him?

"Email me one of you poems," he said with an adorable smile that I still remember to this day. He slid a business card out from his wallet before standing up.

So Tall.

I went home and immediately looked in the mirror. Ewww. You know how you look at the end of a long work day? Make-up is worn off, hair kind of greasy, or at least lost most of it's style? My jacket was hideous. I'd bought it years earlier at a Club Monaco outlet, but it was far too big, and a plain grey color. I looked boxy in it, and the only reason I'd thrown it on was because we were getting the first chilly weather of the year, and it was the first warm jacket I could find in my mad dash to work that morning.

Hmmmmm, I thought.This guys definitely scored points for talking to me when I looked like this. I mean how awesome is it to know, that even when you look close to your worst, a handsome guy still obviously finds you attractive enough to start a conversation? I wasn't decked out in 400 dollar jeans and a low cut top at a bar; while I teetered drunkenly on 4 inch heels; hair and makeup perfect, when I caught his eye. He wasn't a dirtbag looking for an easy catch.

I didn't know what to think during the next few days, but I took a chance and emailed him anyways. We carried on days of friendly conversation before our first official "date". (Sushi - and I made sure I looked damn good for that date, after the state I was in when he met me.)

Naturally there were some big questions I had to ask myself, like whether I was jumping in too soon after I'd just broken up with my ex, but I couldn't argue the way I felt, and the way everything just happened. I didn't consciously decide I wanted to be with him, it just happened to me, and I couldn't stop it.

All I can say is that when you know, you just know. It's so cliche, but it's the truth.

And I think everything happens for a reason. The hell I went through with guys before, I firmly believe it all happened to point me in the right direction of meeting Ryan.

So you have to know what you want. Truly know what you want, and be ok with being alone. Because a new door can only open once the last one is fully closed!

(The earliest pic I have of us .. back when I was a blondie)

What's Your Love Story?