Feb 142008

What’s the sleaziest thing you ever did?

I don’t necessarily mean something involving K-Y and/or alternate uses for common household implements, though I’m certainly not judging. (If you really want to talk about it, my email is to the right. No, I’m kidding.)

(Of course I’m not kidding. Send .jpgs too.)

No, I mean something that kind of makes you go “ewwwwwww!”—morally, ethically, or maybe a dollop of both. And does the end ever justify the means?

The short version of how Lea and I met is “through a mutual friend.” The longer version is that Lea was a guest at my girlfriend-at-the-time’s birthday party. We were introduced, and immediately I thought “hmmm, if I wasn’t the, you know, birthday girl’s boyfriend, I’d be hangin’ with her.” I exchanged a little pleasant conversation with her, and that was it.

Or so I thought. (Imagine appropriate transitional music.)

Fast forward two months to Big Spring Jam II, way back in the fall of 1994. Who should my girlfriend and I run into but Lea and her friend Andrea, hanging out? Oh, and there are more pieces to the story by now. My girlfriend was about to move to Nashville (to move in with the woman I dated before her, and no, I’m not making that up, but that’s another post), so we were mostly broken up (read: mutually aware that we were futureless but still sleeping together, because Nashville was going to lower the boom on that soon enough, so why not?).

Which meant that, fueled by a little liquid courage and some damned fine Webb Wilder rock ‘n’ roll, Lea was standing directly in the flirting lamp, and that sumbitch was lit up all over the place.

We said hi again. We laughed a bit about how poorly some very well lubricated folks were dancing. I touched her way too much—her back here, her shoulder there, you know it goes. I deliberately ended the encounter before I could do something stupid that would undo all of the coolness equity I’d just built up, and I was feeling pretty damned pleased with myself. “Holy shit,” thought I. “I was such a goober for so long, and I am now invincible. No woman intimidates me. Feel my power! RAAAAAAAAA!!!!”

I was pumped. I was psyched. My girlfriend would move, I’d ask Lea out, and it would be all good, gnome sane?

So we were driving home from the Jam when I realized I didn’t know Lea’s last name.


This plan has gone so damned well, and it’s about to collapse utterly because of this!?! It’s like we flew to the moon and forgot the little doohickey to undo the hatch.

I was on the verge of just asking my girlfriend (and risking the associated verbal abuse, which I can’t say I think would have been entirely unjustified) when the light bulb over my head came on.

(This is the sleazy part.)

My girlfriend and I got back to my apartment. After (probably), um, that (I can’t remember for sure), she went to sleep. When I was sure she was out, I sneaked downstairs and went through her purse to research her address book for my future wife’s last name and telephone number.


Fortunately, Lea’s maiden name starts with a D, so I didn’t have to go very far. I found it, copied it down, replaced it, and went back to bed.

Lea and I are about to enter our 12th year of marriage, so on balance, it had to be the right call, right?

Happy Valentine’s Day!

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 Posted by at 9:07 pm

  4 Responses to “The morally questionable origin of a beautiful continuing saga”

  1. I met my current husband while I was still married to my former. You want stories? I’VE got stories… (no jpegs, though – you CRACK ME UP…)

  2. WOW! Ok now that’s a crazy story! But I think you did right.

    I keep thinking if I hadn’t had a few years of hell and self-hating and misery being married to someone who cheated on me and “drug me” to AL – I would not be who I am now – I would have never met Paul, or discovered caving, or met everyone I know now, or be back to my normal perky self. I’m happy again. And the feeling of being very very lucky to be here still hasn’t worn off after 3 years.

    Call it fate – kismet – providence – whatever you’d like. Everything does happen for a reason.

  3. You’d have thought he would have gone back to the very small store where his ex-girlfriend, Andrea and I had worked part time during Christmas (the reason we knew each other) and just *asked* someone. Surely he could have come up with a plausible excuse for needing my last name…

    To be truthful there is a part of me that thinks it’s kind of cool that he went to such sneaky measures just to get my number. I’m pretty sure I’ve never had anybody else THAT interested in me. He’s still interested, so I’d say it was the right call!

  4. This does not surprise me in the least.

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