I Was a Self-Respecting Badass

Then I met my husband

“What was dad like when he was younger?” my son asks.

“Actually,” I say, “Your father was different. But you may be surprised to know I was different as well.”

I begin to tell my son what should have been a danger Will Robinson, red flag, heads up, a wake-up call — of our history. The story of how his father pursued me for a month and how I finally relented.

I spent four weeks dodging my intended’s direction.

My ever-dependable roommates attempting to have my back.

“Avoid that party,” they would say. “That guy is looking for you again.”

I would acknowledge my loyal sistas and advance towards the next beer-fueled blowout. I probably should’ve been curious about his unrelenting interest. I met him once at a late-night kegger.

We were uber-responsible…My friends and I never left one another alone.

That night, I agreed to wait for my roommate. I killed time as she passed it with a guitar-yielding hottie. My future husband ceremoniously threw a ‘hi, how are you doing?’ conversation my way.

He then asked me to leave and grab breakfast.

I wasn’t easy collegiate prey.

I was less naive more suspect. I found his words off-putting. The pursuit of early morning food groups meant he was looking for something else.

And he wouldn’t be getting it from me.

I was a self-respecting badass.

Long before ‘The Office’ made Scranton, Pennsylvania infamous, we lulled away the hours at ‘Scanlon's.’ The ever-inviting hotspot for all things happening.

In a town, where frankly, much else wasn’t.

However, you would find many a University of Scranton or U of S to Marywood heart ignited there. We were the latter match. An overly talkative girl whose mother thought Catholic college would be her savior and a guy she never saw coming.

When the two of us landed at Scanlon’s I was unprepared.

“Stop staring at me,” he said.

“I’m not staring at you,” I replied.

He finally got my attention. Or should I say my sense of humor? I loved a funny guy. He made me laugh. His earlier pretty boy appearance now seemed attractive. We bantered back and forth and he followed me outside the bar to ask for my number.

We arranged a formal date.

When the night arrived, I waited. And I waited. And then I waited some more. At some time past eleven, the phone rang.

“I’m at this party,” he says. “Come meet me.”

I’m more than mildly irritated.

Especially since I didn’t want to go out with him in the first place. I had never spent an entire evening held hostage. Whether it was pure luck or the good fortune to have strictly encountered respectful guys.

“I’m not meeting you,” I say. “If you want to take me out, you won’t be calling me at this hour and telling me to catch you at a party.”

In the proverbial world of hindsight being twenty-twenty.

What the hell was I thinking??!!

I never wanted to date him in the first place.

So why dear goddesses of dating did I give him a second chance?!

I wish I had a good answer. I don’t.

I rationalized he was a fun-loving clueless college boy. Someone who had never experienced longer than a three-month relationship. He wasn’t dubious. He was clueless.

He wasn’t a player by any means and this was true.

He appeared to be an innocent dumbass.

But I digress.

Let me get back to my conversation with my son.

I can see the shock on his face when I explain our first or supposed first date. It’s clear he understands a man shouldn’t do this. I’m pretty sure he’s confused why I tolerated it.

“When I was young, I was formidable,’ I say. “I had so much self-respect I was a badass. I didn’t have patience for guys who didn’t treat me well.”

But I excused people’s bad behavior when I should have run from it.

I had no idea this would make me disappear.

That continually seeing the best in people would harm me.

My inner girl had unwittingly acquired others — a best friend, a wife, a mother, and a business partner. Making me less woman hear me roar and more woman help me roar.

I didn’t recognize the moment I gave myself away.

To a phone that rang sometime past eleven.