When You Know; You’ll Know–How I Met My Fiance

 If you should know anything about me is this–I take forever to absorb a life change.  I’m still trying to absorb what has happened.   On the last day of our New Orleans adventure, my boyfriend had popped the question in a quiet corner of Muriel’s Restaurant.  Through bursts of tears and onlookers, I said yes.  As we walked through Bourbon Street, I couldn’t help but bask in this magical glow.   

I’m engaged.  I’m going to be someone’s wife How did I get here?

I’m going to be real with you.  I was engaged when I was 16.  The proposal happened the day before I left for Japan on a scholarship (you can read all about my experience abroad here).  At the time, I thought it was my time.  My mother kept asking me if I was sure I knew what I was doing.  I reassured her that I was ready because at that age I thought I knew anything and everything.  But I knew deep down that I just wasn’t ready.  I was in this state of denial.  And as it pained me at the time to admit it–maybe ‘he’ just wasn’t the one… 

Immediately following my return, my relationship had been terminated via phone.  (The worst way you can end a relationship with someone).  At the time, I felt destroyed, betrayed and broken.  (Just in time to start Junior CollegeThanks, dude.)  During the midst of my breakup, I kept blaming myself.  And I kept wondering what I could have done differently.  I listened to a lot of sad music (kind of a mandatory after a break-up when you’re super young).  Overanalyzing it to death, I just couldn’t let it go…

I was replaced by someone else and that messed me up for a long time… 

Fast forwarding to the future, I had just turned 27 and I was struggling to find a job.  Once I was laid off, I was practically partying every day to distract myself from the fact that I was under severe financial pressure.  (My liver was also under pressure but that was besides the point).  My daily routine consisted of sitting at my dining room table, applying for anything and everything office related.  And then I’d go out and party with my friends as a distraction from adult responsibilities.  Finally, I received a call for an office job not too far from my home (which was a blessing since my previous job required a 2-hour commute).  Feeling like it was a sign of good things to come, I went in for the interview and was hired on the spot.  Ecstatic, I celebrated and was told to start on Monday.

The first few days were rough.  I was told to find something else and that the general manager was Satan.  On my first day, I drove home in tears feeling so overwhelmed.  I was trying for so long to find something and now that I finally did, I was being told to run for the hills.  I could have accepted a different job and floated on unemployment for a while.  But I was eager to start working again and making an honest living for myself.  But now, I had made my bed and I had to cry in it…

Every day was the same ordinary bullshit.  I’d receive a call from someone who wanted to book the venue, I’d give them our spiel and then move on with the booking process.  If the General Manager was in a shitty mood (which was every day) you were in for a shitty day. I was practically molded into this sales robot…

The job began to take it’s toll on me.  I was extremely disappointed in myself and questioned my decisions.  I’m a college graduate.  I have an Associates Degree.  I graduated with Honors with a Bachelors Degree in Science.  At this point, my degree might as well be set on fire in a trash somewhere.  Each time I stepped foot into that building, I could feel all my hard work in school flushing itself down the drain.  I felt extremely miserable behind a fake exterior.  I had to pretend to give a shit what my coworkers were saying.  I had to pretend that I enjoyed promoting our venue to a potential buyer even though I dreamt about it catching on fire (obviously with no one in it).  I felt like such a sellout.  I was in a bleak situation with zero motivation…

One afternoon in the midst of eye rolls, I noticed an unfamiliar face who approached the cubicle across from me.  He introduced himself as Joe, the security manager of the building.  He kept to himself mostly.  But during some office chit chat with our surrounding coworkers, we engaged in light conversation.  Our conversations felt organic.  We had a lot in common and it felt nice to be myself.

I’m not one to immediately obsess over someone, but when I got home that day–I couldn’t stop thinking about him.  

Work became easier from that day on.  I had someone to talk to.  I would watch the clock feeling eager for another horror filled discussion with him.  The one reoccurring thought I had was that one day he may not show up anymore.  One day he would have enough of this stink hole and he would be gone for good, or worse–he was already seeing someone else…

I’m extremely clueless when it comes to figuring out if someone likes me or not.  I have to have it written on a piece of paper.  I can’t pick up subtle hints to save my life!  Don’t judge me.  For some odd reason, I needed to make a move.  If I didn’t–I’d go home feeling stupid for not at least trying.  Taking a chance seemed to be the only way I’d ever know if this had potential or not.  Feeling brave, I wrote my number and name on a piece of paper and tossed it over the cubicle quickly.  

I put myself out there, and I could only hope that the feelings were mutual.

Ever since I threw my digits over the cubicle, our friendship had proceeded into a relationship.  Over the next month, we had been texting regularly.  I had even changed his name in my phone just in case any of my coworkers decided to be nosy.  (I couldn’t take any chances.) We were in a little bubble.  It felt nice to have our little secret glances or quick trips to lunch.  I had a reason for coming to work compared to before.  I was finally happy in the festering shithole.  My mood was better overall seeing as though I was practically dating my coworker.  We had both agreed to keep things private until we were both out of the building and onto better jobs.  

For the next six months, we kept our relationship private.

I’d receive anonymous bouquets (although I knew who they were really from).  The girls in the office would try to beat it out of me as to who sent me flowers.  I refused to provide any information.  I had lied and said it was from a date I had a week ago, but in reality–it was from my boyfriend who was sitting across from me.  I could feel the raging bolts of jealousy from the girls in our office.  Several were pissed, and I can only attribute that to being absolutely bitter that their boyfriends weren’t displaying gestures of romance.  (Not my fault!)  I was beaming while the rumor mill began to spin its’ wheels.  As expected (since nobody in that building knew to mind their own business) several were accusing Joe of having a crush on me.  But hey, it’s not like they were completely wrong.  We’d brush them off saying that we both hated each other.  That was our objective–to make it seem like we couldn’t stand one another.  But in reality, we couldn’t be away from one another…

I reassured everyone that I was single and although several single creeps in the building couldn’t take my not so subtle hints, they continued to hit on me anyway right in front of my boyfriend.  Joe would have to stand there and watch someone flirt with me but couldn’t do anything about it.  If he did–it would blow our cover.  It became almost a running joke between us.  I found it funny although he found it frustrating.

Our relationship had its challenges.  Work was under the control of a misogynistic, racist dictator and it was beginning to take it’s toll on the both of us.  Sometimes I’d come over and just start crying after a long day of calling businesses non-stop.  I was starting to crack.  Arguments ensued almost daily.  I was beginning to take my work home with me.  The pressure was mounting.  We were under immense heat for not filling the venue to capacity.  I was reaching the end of my rope.

To make matters worse, my supervisor would constantly talk horribly about him.  She would claim that he was nothing more than a redneck.  Her consistent bashing happened almost daily.  And to make shit even worse–I couldn’t say anything back.  I couldn’t fight back.  I felt helpless.  But one day I asked her a simple, straightforward question;

What if I started dating him?  What would you say?

I’d say you’re pretty desperate.  You’re out of his league.

Holding everything back in that moment was unbelievably tough.  It took every ounce of me not to start screaming.  If she only knew who she was talking to.  If she only knew what was going on behind the curtain…

We had to pull through.  He would hold me and let me know that everything was going to be alright.  He reassured me that we would both find something better.  He said that we just had to grit our teeth and push on through.  We weren’t just this forbidden romance–We were a team.  I think that was the very moment I truly began to fall in love with him.  He was my counterpart, my other half–my team mate.

I never understood the phrase–when you know, you’ll know.  That phrase has always confused me.  But how will I truly know, ya know?  But as I sit back and reflect on the day when we first met, I understand it more than ever.  I knew that him and I were meant to be in some way.  I felt it.  In fact, I could see it.  Whether we could be just friends or something more, something was urging me to move forward and take a chance.  He had an aura about him and our connection was unparalleled to anyone I had ever met.  I knew in that moment that we were both in the right place at the right time…

I wouldn’t change how we met.  I would go back to that horrible place a thousand times in purgatory if it meant that I got to meet him all over again… 

He was the only good thing that came out of that place. 

I wake up every morning wondering how I had gone through life without him.  He’s my best friend.  We live together in a townhouse.  We collect horror memorabilia.  We go to conventions, haunted attractions, theme parks, brunches–you name itWe do it all.  I thought that my life was over ten years ago at the ripe age of 16.  I thought that my moment had come and gone.  But I couldn’t have been more wrong.  Something cosmic was telling me that things happen for a reason and something with a larger purpose was in the works.  I was meant to work in that shithole just so I could meet the love of my life.  He came out of nowhere but more importantly, he showed up when I needed him the most.  

If you’re wondering if you’ll ever get there–you will.  Stop looking.  Let the universe take you there.  You just might be surprised. 





Did you enjoy my post?

Let me know by leaving me a comment!  Also be sure to share this post (share buttons are at the bottom)!  And if you haven’t yet; follow my Facebook Page and Instagram.


2 comments so far.

2 responses to “When You Know; You’ll Know–How I Met My Fiance”

  1. Syls Hanes says:

    This is a beautiful love story! Thanks for sharing! I actually super disliked my husband when I met him… he told his mother he was going to marry me, and she said "Son, she needs to like you first" … his reply, "I'll work on it" – – and we've been married 31 years!

  2. Meg says:

    Awwww! That's wonderful! 31 years is a long time! <3 Congrats to you and your husband!

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *