How I met the man who inflicts antiques on me

OK, the hookup story --

I moved to Arkansas with a boyfriend in tow. We had broken up, due to his ... hmmm... commitment issues (fear and loathing of marriage and children), but reunited shortly before I took the job here.

So he came too, although I refused to live with him again.

That relationship was limping along when I first went on assignment with Hubs, a divorced photographer 14 years older than me. I thought he was hilarious. And, even better, he didn't find my story ideas odd or complain about some of the weird things I made him do. (like spending an entire day looking for a crime scene that the cops didn't want us to find ((we did).)

Most of our assignments involved daylong roadtrips, so we spent quite a bit of time together.

Soon, he started hanging out with my little group of friends. (Yes, the boyfriend was part of that group.)

One night, after my friend Amy and I indulged in one too many of a restaurant's local version of a hurricane, I began running my foot up and down Hubs' leg. My boyfriend was at the table. At first, Hubs thought perhaps I had the wrong leg. But when I leered drunkenly at him, he realized I did indeed have the right target. He would say later, "I thought it might be best to take this up another time."

And he fled.

A week later, our little group -- minus my anti-social boyfriend -- went dancing at a bar called -- I kid you not -- The Electric Cowboy. (When I first moved to Arkansas, The Electric Cowboy was still BJ's Starstudded Honkytonk, a favorite hangout of Paula Jones. Yes, that Paula.)

Anyway, Hubs and I took on a waltz. He is a fabulous dancer. And thus I was smitten.

I was wearing this.




Yes, it's vinyl. Don't laugh. I thought it was incredibly cute at the time. Eek. Everyone is grateful that I am no longer single as my taste has somewhat improved. OK, well, it has -- a little.

Three or four hours later, we were parked in front of my friend Traci's apartment after dropping off Amy, who was unable to drive all the way to her own place. Amy went inside and Hubs and I resumed making out. All was lovely until I accidentally sat on the horn, which blared loud and long. We laughed, then Hubs drove me home.

The next morning, Amy called. "So how was it? Is he a good kisser? He looks like the type who would be a good kisser. And don't lie to me because Traci and I looked outside when we heard the horn. We. Saw. You."

I confessed and swore her to secrecy. Remember, (even though I clearly didn't) I still had a boyfriend.

Who also worked in the newsroom.

Slightly awkward for all involved, no?

There was much sneaking around for several weeks, including a trip to Eureka Springs to see Willie Nelson in concert. Let it be noted here that I never could have pulled that off if I hadn't been dating a totally indifferent boyfriend. I'm not trying to justify what I did, but ... OK, well, yes I am.

Anyway.

I finally broke up with the boyfriend. By this time, the entire newsroom knew that Hubs and I were involved. You just try to be sneaky in a place filled with nosy reporters. It cannot be done.

Six months later, Hubs and I were planning a trip to Big Bend National Park, when suddenly, somehow, we found ourselves also planning a wedding there.

I called my parents the next day. "Mom, Hubs and I are getting married in four weeks at Big Bend. If you want to come, you're more than welcome. But we're doing this alone, out on a trail, with no other guests."

My parents, two sisters and brother-in-law showed up. As they were ALL taking pictures, no one actually watched the ceremony, but no biggie.

Only a few people in the newsroom knew what we were doing, so when we got back, there was much gasping and laughing. Ex-boyfriend had long since moved away. Last I heard, he was backkpacking through Thailand.

So there it is, the story of our whirlwind courtship and marriage.

It's been seven years, and we've made it back to Big Bend six times since then. We hope to head there again next fall.

***************************

Karma got me again. Remember when I recently wrote about how I wanted to dump all of Hubs' useless clutter on his ex-wife's doorstep?

Well, tonight my stepkids came over for dinner. With a hideous antique chair that the ex claims once belonged to Hubs. She sent it over "because she thought Hubs might want it back."

Beaten at my own game before it started.