I love hearing the stories of how all my sweet couples first met and fell in love. So I figured you all might be interested to learn how I met my husband, and the story of how we fell in love.
The night I met Ryan was the night of my first high-school party. It was Halloween in 2005, just before my fifteenth birthday. I spent the earlier part of the evening getting dressed in my black leotard, tights, and skirt ensemble, complete with some ears and a tail for what I hoped was a just-sexy-enough black cat costume. (Which in hindsight was probably pretty conservative, seeing as my dad let me leave the house, and I was never that scandalous anyway.)
I was nervous. Although I didn’t know yet that I would be meeting the boy I would end up marrying, I was fully aware that this was the first social event I would be attending as a high schooler. And I knew that probably, most of the people there would already know each other, because most of my classmates had begun their years at our school in sixth grade. Meanwhile, I didn’t know the majority of those people who knew each other. It’s the shy introvert’s nightmare.
But I was also kind of excited. After all, a new friend had invited me, and a fellow new student at our school agreed to be my buddy for the night, so it was looking promising. I showed up pretending to exude confidence in my little black outfit. As I stared about the room at all of the unfamiliar faces smiling behind costumes, I noticed one boy in particular amongst the crowd. My first image of him remains so clear in my memory now, and yet, for some reason I couldn’t tell you what exactly his costume was. He wore some sort of long, blonde wig, along with a white sleeveless shirt and jean jacket. But I don’t really remember seeing anything other than his big brown eyes and arms toned from wrestling.
But the night went on, and I was able to lose myself enough to dance freely in the dark, party-lit room full of strangers with my new friends. I danced and laughed and danced some more, and at some point I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around to face the big brown eyes I’d been watching from a distance. “Do you want to dance?” he asked. It was the first time a boy had ever asked that of me.
Of course, there being no other answer, I said yes.
We danced, and I met his friends. At the end of the night, he asked for my phone number. In a sudden state of panic, I told him I didn’t give out that information. Instead, I told him to find me on MySpace (cue cackling laughter here.)
He proceeded to make sure that he knew exactly how to spell my name so that he could find me. His friend who was with him at the party likes repeating this part of the story: “D-E-L-I-A. D-E-L-I-A. Ben, don’t let me forget. D-E-L-I-A,” Ryan supposedly chanted to him after I left.
Don’t worry. He didn’t forget.
Our relationship bloomed after a year of chatting on AIM and MySpace. Since we didn’t go to the same school, and were both too young to drive, our chats online and on the phone were all we really had for a while. Somewhere around the beginning of my sophomore year in high school, we started spending more time together in person. And just after my sixteenth birthday, he asked me to be his girlfriend. We’ve been together ever since.
While you’re here, you might also be interested in these other personal stories:
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I love hearing the stories of how all my sweet couples first met and fell in love. So I figured you all might be interested to learn how I met my husband, and the story of how we fell in love.
The night I met Ryan was the night of my first high-school party. It was Halloween in 2005, just before my fifteenth birthday. I spent the earlier part of the evening getting dressed in my black leotard, tights, and skirt ensemble, complete with some ears and a tail for what I hoped was a just-sexy-enough black cat costume. (Which in hindsight was probably pretty conservative, seeing as my dad let me leave the house, and I was never that scandalous anyway.)
I was nervous. Although I didn’t know yet that I would be meeting the boy I would end up marrying, I was fully aware that this was the first social event I would be attending as a high schooler. And I knew that probably, most of the people there would already know each other, because most of my classmates had begun their years at our school in sixth grade. Meanwhile, I didn’t know the majority of those people who knew each other. It’s the shy introvert’s nightmare.
But I was also kind of excited. After all, a new friend had invited me, and a fellow new student at our school agreed to be my buddy for the night, so it was looking promising. I showed up pretending to exude confidence in my little black outfit. As I stared about the room at all of the unfamiliar faces smiling behind costumes, I noticed one boy in particular amongst the crowd. My first image of him remains so clear in my memory now, and yet, for some reason I couldn’t tell you what exactly his costume was. He wore some sort of long, blonde wig, along with a white sleeveless shirt and jean jacket. But I don’t really remember seeing anything other than his big brown eyes and arms toned from wrestling.
But the night went on, and I was able to lose myself enough to dance freely in the dark, party-lit room full of strangers with my new friends. I danced and laughed and danced some more, and at some point I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around to face the big brown eyes I’d been watching from a distance. “Do you want to dance?” he asked. It was the first time a boy had ever asked that of me.
Of course, there being no other answer, I said yes.
We danced, and I met his friends. At the end of the night, he asked for my phone number. In a sudden state of panic, I told him I didn’t give out that information. Instead, I told him to find me on MySpace (cue cackling laughter here.)
He proceeded to make sure that he knew exactly how to spell my name so that he could find me. His friend who was with him at the party likes repeating this part of the story: “D-E-L-I-A. D-E-L-I-A. Ben, don’t let me forget. D-E-L-I-A,” Ryan supposedly chanted to him after I left.
Don’t worry. He didn’t forget.
Our relationship bloomed after a year of chatting on AIM and MySpace. Since we didn’t go to the same school, and were both too young to drive, our chats online and on the phone were all we really had for a while. Somewhere around the beginning of my sophomore year in high school, we started spending more time together in person. And just after my sixteenth birthday, he asked me to be his girlfriend. We’ve been together ever since.
While you’re here, you might also be interested in these other personal stories: