A Love Story

Ten years ago today, I met my husband. I was just beginning my sophomore year at Georgetown and was heading out for a night on the town with my roommate and some friends. We decided to go to a club in DC called The Spot (classy, I know). The place was a little out of control, so my friend and I decided to dance in the eighties room as it seemed to be the safest place to hang out. While busting a move to Madonna, I spotted a really cute guy in a dark red shirt. 

"Hey, check out that guy behind you. Red shirt. He's really hot," I told her.

We smoothly switched places so she could see him. She grinned and nodded. "Mmhmm. Definitely a hottie."

We switched places again so I could get a better look. He had some serious dance moves, and since I was a dancer, I liked that:) (Note, he still has those same dance moves. They aren't quite as cool on a thirty-one-year old, but I still love them:)

We made eye contact, and a few minutes later, we were dancing. He was sweet and respectful - definitely not like the other guys in the club. He asked if he could buy me a drink, but I was only 19 so I told him I'd just have a water. 

He smiled, thinking, "Wow, this girl actually wants to talk to me! She isn't in this for the free drink!"

We chatted and flirted, and before long, I was writing my phone number down on a napkin. We said goodbye, but I didn't stop thinking about him the whole night.

The next day, he pulled out the napkin and said to his friends, "Watch this, guys. There's no way she gave me her real number. It's going to be a pizza place."

He dialed the number and was surprised to hear my voice on the other end. I was surprised to hear his. What guy calls you the day after meeting you in a night club?!

It was Labor Day weekend, so that Monday, he took me out on a date. Guys did not take girls on real dates in college - at least that hadn't been my experience. So naturally, we went to my favorite restaurant at the time - Pizzera Uno:) Over a scrumptious four-cheese pizza, we talked non-stop about our lives, our families, our pasts.

I liked this guy. I liked him a lot. He was different from all the rest - sweeter, more mature, and definitely more handsome:)

He drove me back to my apartment in his cool-guy white mustang. I thanked him for lunch, smiled and bolted out of the car, not giving him a chance to kiss me goodbye. 

He needed to work for it.

He watched me walk away, and thought, Damn, I need to see that girl again . . .

I never thought that I would meet my future husband in the eighties room of a dance club when I was only nineteen years old, but I'm so glad I did:)

It's been ten years since the night we met, and my husband still has the napkin with my phone number on it. We're going to Pizzeria Uno this Monday. We would go back to The Spot, but it doesn't exist anymore, and besides, we're getting a little old for that anyway:)

The best part of all is that I'm still madly in love:)

Happy ten years, Sean!