8 years ago....

today,

I met my Bobby.

I was a hot mess with low-slung jeans and a cowboy hat trying to be the cutest mamacita at the Cinco de Mayo festival we went to that night. I thought I was way cool, with soooooo much style. Yunno, I had even cut the waist off my pants so that when I washed them they would fray just like Mariah Carey. Cause Mariah Carey is such a fashion DIVA, right? My cowboy hat (it was really cute and cowboy hats totally used to be in--don't act like you don't know!) eventually got smashed and torn because, oh yeah, I also got into a FIGHT that night! 

Nice.

The story of how I met my man just took a turn for the ghetto. It was so not my fault, though--this random girl starting shouting expletives at me and practically threw her nasty self onto me for no reason whatsoever. She was drunk, and I had to defend myself, so we went at it in front of EVERYONE there. 

Not one of the highlights of my life, but made for an interesting story to tell. 

So, we hung out together that night, probably had a conversation or two (our minds were most definitely not on each other) and didn't talk again 'til a year and a half later. There was no romance, no exchange of numbers, no goodnight kiss. We just happened to be with a mutual friend at the same place, and the same time. The anniversary is still recognized, however, because I like to think of it as the day my soul grabbed a little bit of his and said, "Hey, let's meet up another day when we're both clear-headed enough to realize that we'd have to be fools not to give each other a try. About a year or two, whatcha think?"

And we did. The real fun began sometime in mid-September, 2002. But that juice is for another day, most likely the fall. I'll reminisce about our "2nd meeting" and how that man singlehandedly changed my entire world.

I love you, Bobby. 

I'm so glad we met.