Weddingbee Blog

Or: Why I’m glad Matron of Honor Scissors tells me what to do and has a set.

Or: The story of how we met.

Gather ’round, children, and I’ll tell you the story of how Mr. S and I met.

On New Year’s Eve in 2007, I was pissed off. Really pissed off. A few days prior, the largest d-bag on the planet, also known as my ex-boyfriend, told me that he was going to Las Vegas with his frat brothers and blowing off our plans for NYE. MaOH Scissors told me that we were going to a party that night, and I didn’t have a choice. I did not want to go. At all. I whined and tried to make up excuses, but she’s pretty good at standing her ground.

Before the actual party, we were going to meet up with people at a separate location, then all go together. As we were walking up to the house, I was whining to MaOH Scissors that I’d have no one to kiss at midnight. She told me that I could kiss someone, and I said no.

When we opened the front door to the house, I quickly changed my tune. I instantly saw Mr. S, and blurted out, “I WANT THAT ONE.”

“Oh, I know him! We’re going over there.”

“No no no no no no no. I’m too scared.”

We went into the kitchen where he was sitting. MaOH Scissors proceeded to sit on one side of him, and motioned for me to sit on the other side. When I get nervous, I start getting the misty sweats. It’s not very sexy, but it’s true. My forehead gets all shiny and I get all panicky. True to form, I started getting that nervous-hot feeling. I grabbed the first two things I could see to make a fan.

I made a fan out of a potato masher and a vegetable bag. And proceeded to blabber and fan myself. I was so nervous that I can’t even begin to remember what we talked about. He was just so flipping cute, had a sexy German accent, and was just generally smart and awesome. And I didn’t scare him off with my fan.

It came time for everyone to migrate to the actual party location, so everybody rolled out. The second MaOH Scissors and I got into the car, I told her that I wanted Mr. S to be my New Year’s Eve kiss, and that I needed her to help me make that happen. I was, and still am, a total chicken. Without any hesitation, she told me that she’d just ask him for me.

After we got to the party, she asked him, and he agreed. I swear that I walked around in circles and hid in corners for the next few hours. I was terrified. Was he going to come over to me? What the hell was I doing? He was entirely too good-looking and awesome for me.

Despite my fabulous ninja-hiding skills, he did indeed find me at midnight. I thought I was going to pass out.

“Would you like a kiss for New Year’s?”

I don’t remember what I said back, but we kissed. It was magical—ponies, rainbows, fireworks, unicorns, bunny rabbits, and dinosaurs magical.

We’ve been together ever since.

How did you act when you first met your fiance/husband/significant other? Were you totally Rico Suave or a goober-dingbat like I was?