Paul and I met in 2014, over Thanksgiving weekend. I had just gotten back from Chapel Hill a few hours earlier, after watching the Tar Heels lose (predictably) to N.C. State in football, and was on the fence about going out (also predictable). Fortunately, I had several friends in town for the weekend, and was talked into grabbing just "a drink or two." As we were getting ready to hop into our Uber, I received a text from my good friend (and bridesmaid!) Mary Catherine Beck. She was dating one of Paul's best friends, Matt Goolsby, who was in town for the weekend. MC thought Paul and I would hit it off, so we all headed to Ri Ra, a classic Irish bar in uptown Charlotte. While I'd like to say that the first time we met was love at first sight, sadly that was not the case here. Our initial introductions were slightly awkward, to say the least, and I was feeling the pressure of being set up. But, not all was lost. A few drinks later, and Paul and I were chatting the night away (aka, I was rambling about my new puppy while Paul listened patiently). We exchanged numbers at the end of that night, and had our first "real" date at Mimosa Grill a few days later. The rest, as they say, is history.

So, here is what really happened. It was Thanksgiving 2014, and I was still pretty fresh off of my eye injury. Having recently re-gained my vision, I obviously didn’t feel like doing much, but my good friend, Matt Goolsby, and his girlfriend, Mary Catherine Beck, insisted that we go out. Alcohol cures all ailments and besides, MC told me that her friend and sorority sister was “dying to meet me”. I certainly didn’t want anyone to expire on my behalf, so I agreed. What she didn’t tell me, is that her friend was expecting to meet some guy wearing a pirate patch. When we were finally introduced at Ri Ra, Beth promptly said hello and then walked away. I can still remember turning to Matt and saying, “uhh, so that went pretty well”. Fortunately, Beth just needed a little liquid courage (like I said, alcohol cures all ailments!) and I was happy to supply a Fireball shot (or two). The ensuing hours were filled with Lana Del Ray comparisons, being force-fed pictures of her “son” Milo, and lots of dancing. By the end of the night I knew I was hooked. The rest, as they said, is indeed history.