Dave and I met when I dated his best friend in high school. I was 16, he was 20. Seven years later, my best friend ended up marrying my ex-boyfriend (Dave's best friend). They were engaged on Friday, December 28, 2007. I had just gotten through the worst Christmas Eve and the most memorable Christmas ever. The night Sandra and Bob got engaged they asked everyone from the bridal party to meet up at a bar. I wasn't friends with Sandra's group of girlfriends, so I walked into the bar by myself. I was wearing a black off the shoulder top, dark skinny jeans, and black patent leather heels.
When I walked in I said hello to everyone in front of me and I could see Dave out of the corner of my eye. He was wearing this awful maroon V-neck sweater, jeans that were too baggy, and these awful timberland-looking things. The first person I got into a conversation with didn't really have much to talk about so I cut him short and said "Oh, I should probably go over and say hello to Dave." Dave was always "the nice guy". He was reserved, always respectful; he always had a girlfriend. In fact, he had recently gone through an awful break-up and his ex-girlfriend was there.
Dave and I got into conversation; we were talking about simple things like work, where we were living... it was a simple conversation but it was easy... and comfortable. His ex-girlfriend (who had cheated on him with her current boyfriend) saw that we were having a good time and approached Dave and asked "are you ready to get going soon?" He looked at her sternly, as if she had just lost her mind, and said "no." He moved around her making his way to the bar and asked me if I wanted a drink. That was the first moment I saw him as more than a casual conversation. I was used to hanging around the guys who would have gone home with the easy lay, so he was different. There was a mature, no-nonsense way about him. It was what I had been looking for.
That night after the bar we went to the Llanerch Diner. If you asked him he'd still be able to tell you what I ordered. I was drunk, so he drove my car and I stayed at his house that night. We had such a great night and despite his effort, we did not sleep together. He says that's when he knew he'd found his wife. The next morning we were sitting on the back porch. Again, I was used to the guys who would have gotten up, gotten a shower and asked if I needed a ride home on their way to the gym. But he made no mention of me leaving and he was in no rush to go anywhere. I don't know if he'd even remember this part, but he was sitting on the sofa. I knew I had to get going, so I sat next to him and without hesitation he put his hand on my thigh, as if we had been together forever. It was so comfortable and unexpected and appreciated. It was bold and declarative, but it was effortless and he thought nothing of it. It was as if this electric connection suddenly went straight from his hand through my leg to my heart.
I didn't want to, but I left and I called Sandra almost as soon as I got in the car. She told me that when Dave saw me through the window at the bar the night prior, he told everyone "There's my girl." He could have told me he loved me that night and I don't think it would have meant as much. For the longest time I felt so alone. I was in a place in my life where I was successful and surrounded by beautiful things, but I was in desperate search of home. When she told me he'd said that, I knew I had found it. I knew that everything I felt the night before wasn't too good to be true. It was real.
We spent the rest of the weekend together, nine days later we told each other we loved each other, a few months after that we were engaged and a little over a year of dating we were married. I'm a really strong believer in God, in soul mates, in fate, in my husband. I don't know if he found me or if I found him, but as much as he drives me crazy sometimes, he's my Home.
