We Met by Debbie Mascot
Marc has his own story, but this is my turn. I graduated high school early, in January, and was still doing nothing in May. Well, I took care of a bunch of children, but that didn't seem like work then. I was a punk rock girl and my friends were punk rock friends. We looked scary, but we weren't. Well, I wasn't. I had been a straight A student, had a full time "job" taking care of children, had a car and responsibility, and, although most of my friends did, I didn't do drugs. I just dressed like I did.
One particular May evening, I dropped by Tim's house unannounced and he invited me to go with him and his friend, Marc, to see one of Marc's friends play guitar at some bookstore or something. I said I'd go, more because I knew they'd need a ride than I really wanted to go.
Tim went to take a shower and asked me to get the door if Marc showed up. I said sure and sat down with a magazine. I remember thinking that I hated the pants I was wearing. They were black jeans and the ankles weren't pegged quite enough. Made me very mad. I was also wearing a sloppy sweater and felt all-around unfit for my punk rock standards.
And then there was a knock on the door. I opened it and I swear, there stood the most dazzling person I'd ever seen. Truly love at first sight. I have no idea what he did or didn't do then, but apparently he waved goodbye (symbolically and physically) to his girlfriend who'd dropped him off. I don't remember anything after that except thinking how horrified I was to be wearing my Gross Pants and Stupid Sweater. I was sure he thought I was a dork. And he was so dreamy (to quote Marsha Brady).
Tim came out of the shower and we all sat around for a bit and then we went to this thing. I can't remember anything about the guy that we went to see play except that he was kinda slimy. We all, including Slimy Guy, went to Lyon's afterward for coffee and talked for hours. Well, they talked. I sat there cursing my Gross Pants.
The next night I wrote a letter to a friend. That I never mailed. In it, I told her that I'd just met the most handsome boy in the world. My dream boy.
And I did.
It took a few months for him to disentangle himself from his girlfriend (THAT'S a funny story…) and for us to tell EACHOTHER how we felt, but in August 1985 we did and in September he moved in with us. We moved out into our own apartment (with a roommate) in 1986 and were married in August of 1988. And here it is 17 years, 9 homes, 5 cats, an iguana, a dog and a pregnancy later. He is still my dream boy.
We've had a few really rough spots. And yet, I think that's why we are so strong. It hasn't been super smooth sailing and yet we sailed right through. We both know that no matter how rough the waters get, we'll have two (or even three if the baby starts moving soon!) paddling. So sometimes bad times are good blessings in disguise. But only from afar.