Saturday, November 15, 2008

How I Got To Be The Mister (Part 4)

How I Got To Be The Mister (Part 1)
How I Got To Be The Mister (Part 2)
How I Got To Be The Mister (Part 3)

This is the story we call Cinco de Mayo at our house because that was when it happened. The Missus posted about it on her blog. After this post I'll be ahead of her so you'll have to stalk her to see her recollection of the plot.

It was the fifth of May in 2000 and The Miss and I were on our way to O'Lacy's to conspire over a few pints. While many people are both in and out on the fifth of May to get all boozy, we were out because that is what we did when The Miss was in town. You'll have to forgive me if the narrative is somewhat fuzzy. I myself was somewhat fuzzy that night, in more ways than one. Which is not to say that I don't have clear memories of the evening. On the contrary, parts of it are etched in my mind in vivid detail.

On the way there, I even remember the particular corner we were rounding at the time, The Miss said to me, "I don't think I could ever kiss you because I'm not sure you have a mouth under there." (I still can't find a picture of me from this era, so I'm substituting this Hellbilly Deluxe era photo of Rob Zombie which isn't too far off.)I had a seriously long goatee that I had been growing for years. I stopped shaving half way through my senior year of high school and here I was, seven years later.

There was some banter back and forth about the status of my facial moss, but I wasn't really following along. In my mind I was going back to all the times in the past I had told people I would only shave it off for my wife. I was seriously considering it.

The pub was packed and we got a seat in the center of it all. After a couple pints, The Miss was innocently plying me with tequila (tequila hates me!) She got our favorite waitress involved and eventually half the bar. We were near the door and pretty much everyone had to weigh in on the subject as they were coming or going. The night wore on. This is the part that's fuzzy. I relented, somewhere along in there and found myself trying not too be sea sick while The Miss drove us home.

Then, before I knew it, an historic event took place. There, in the kitchen of my parents' house, I handed my future wife the clippers and told her to have at it. She claims I was getting choked up but it's much more likely that choking down was the operative there. I was pretty frickin lit.

Buzz, buzz, buzz and I was a new man. It was a pretty serious thing for me. There were a good number of people in my life that had never known me without my beard. It was my defining physical characteristic. But the very next thing in the story made it all vanish from my mind.

Our. First. Kiss.

And I can't remember it. Yup, too drunk. I remember that it happened and it was all fire-worky and made parts of me melt that I didn't even know existed before that. But I mostly remember what I felt like after, and what her face looked like. It's one of my favorite mental pictures to this day.

We went out and sat on the porch after that and I whispered some sweetness in her ear from the step behind her. Eventually she got in her car and drove home. I walked in the house wondering how the hell I was going to deal with being in love with a girl who lived in Cleveland. I decided that eventually I'd have to move there and try my hand at being a carpenter in Ohio. That was the extent of my mental capabilities at the time. I flopped into bed wondering what everyone would say when they saw my face the next day.

There was one more event that goes with this part of the story. I can't remember if it was that very night or the next that I was on the phone with her. She let it slip that she would be moving back home. Not, you understand, totally on my behalf. She had a disintegrating family to tend to, of course. (smug comment stricken from the record)

That's all I can muster up for this chapter of the saga. I mixed up a drink before I got started, in keeping with the boozy nature of the story and now I'm a little too sauced to type efficiently. Tune in next time when you'll hear: how The Mister proposed to The Miss.

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6 comments:

Pamela said...

Alrighty then, drunken one.
1) It was 2001.
2) Rob Zombie's mouth is obvious in that picture.
3) Everyone in the bar? Slight exaggeration.
4) Choking it down? No, you don't cry when you barf. And you had at least one tear. Also, your chin was quivering.

Daniels5 said...

hahahahahaha, thanks for the added info Pamela. Can't wait for #5

greenpanda419 said...

I love this story....

I think I'm a lil addicted to your blog at this point.

The Mister said...

You are just never going to let me get away with telling that part of the story are you? Why is it such a big deal that I was a little broken up about changing my face so drastically? I had to go get a new drivers license photo for cryin' in the sink!

jacquelyn.shaw said...

i just want to let you know that it is a cold shitty day in houghton and i am feeling miserably single.the combination of hot cocoa and your story has made me feel significantly better. so thanks for that.

twenty something said...

so i took your advice and started blogging...i just thought you'd like to know!