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How I Met Your Mother


No. I never met your mother. Although knowing your mother probably would’ve been way cooler.


But I did meet my first fiancè around the time I got roofied. Yeah, that wasn't a mistake. My first fiancè. And we met at a bar too. Go figure.


I was out having drinks with my friend Ernie from band one night. We were sitting casually in the corner drinking and chatting. You know, as you do on a Monday night.

Monday? Yeah, Monday.


Drinking was pretty common at this point for me. It wasn’t an addiction quite yet. But it was something to do to pass the time.


So I was telling Ernie about my job in the suburbs. I had just stuffed a tater tot (or three) in my mouth when the waitress unassumingly approached with napkins in her hand. I thought she was trying to signal that my tater tot was falling out of my mouth. Food usually does that.


Instead, she handed me one neatly folded napkin. It was a note! And it was a note for me!


She said it was from the bartender. She not-so-inconspicuously turned to her left and very-much-noticeably hinted at him with her chin and shoulder. Smooth lady.


But there he was. A knight in shining armor. Or just a knight mixing drinks. I couldn’t really make out much. I saw a beard and a smile and I was sold.


So I shoved another tater tot in my mouth and opened the note as confidently as possible.


Wait, what?!? Is this a phone number? For me? Someone’s willingly giving me their digits without me having to try? Okay. Breathe. Play cool. Act like nothing happened.


I got up to go introduce myself to Mr. Bartender. I knocked my coke off the table and onto the floor before I even stepped one foot in his direction. Good one Jeff.


Fortunately he didn’t remember me spilling my drink the next day when I called. But we set up a date. Had a nice conversation. Movie perfect.


Until he showed up to that date drunk. Slurring his words. Smelling like cigarettes. And did I say anything? Nope. Did I say anything ever? Nope. I just went with it.


Four months later, I proposed to him. A year later, I moved in. Half a year later, we bought a house. . .


Just kidding. We almost did. Fortunately things didn’t work out for us.


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