The setting is a bright school gym. A big group of us twenty-somethings, not ready to give up being kids, is set up into opposing teams. We are all wearing neon t-shirts. We look pretty darn good. I am minding my own business when out of nowhere a dodgeball smacks me right in the belly. I look across the way, trying to see who the offender is. Out of the neon mass stands a tall, long haired, handsome guy with short shorts on. He is staring back at me with a horrified look on his face. I don't know his name but I shrug it off. Multiple, polite exchanges follow in the remaining weeks of the dodgeball season. I learn that short-shorts guy is named Dave. There is an end of season party coming up that seems like a good time to get to know my team mates better. The day of that party, though, I contemplate even going. For me, it has been a busy year; I've just bought my first home and am deep in the middle of renovations, stressed about the work being done the following morning. As I stand in Home Depot deciding the fate of the shower shelves that would be installed the next day, my brain tells me to just go and have a fun night; I'd regret it if I didn't. Boy was that inner voice right; little did I know it would turn out to be the night my now husband-to-be would finally ask for my phone number! A week later we had our first date. It took place at a park near both our offices on our lunch break, and we had a picnic of sandwiches, animal crackers and carrots… that's when I learned that Dave hates carrots. The lunch was fun, awkward, and absolutely perfect. And the rest is history!

It was a cold winter day in a bright school gym. Quick hellos and smiles were exchanged before we hit the court. I am wearing very reasonable length shorts and we all have obnoxiously bright, neon colored, league shirts on. In my usual style, I throw a nasty, looping curve ball. It starts on the right and makes its way all the way to the left side where it bopps Nikki right on the thigh. My first thought is "oh shoot, I just hit the girl that I'm trying to hit on...that's not good" so I quickly hide behind the rest of the team to blend in. Thankfully, she has no idea where the ball came from because of how nasty that hook was. Weeks go by before I fess up and tell her I was the real offender… I luckily escaped that one! There were a couple more hellos and smiles exchanged in the following weeks but it is not until the end of the season party where I make my move. I know going into the party that it is now or never. I have to get her number. In typical Dave fashion I stall all throughout the night up until the end. At that point I finally build up enough courage to walk up to her and strike up a conversation. It is then that I learn she is "dodgeballs" deep in house renovations, and realize I am lucky I even had an opportunity to see her that night! I quickly take advantage and ask her for her number. She gives it to me. I promise to captain a dodgeball team next season if she promises to play… she does. The following week we have our first lunch date. We went to a park close to both of our work offices. We really wanted to continue our childish attitudes towards "adulting" and hop on the swings but unfortunately they were all taken by actual children. Instead, we jumped on the closest bench and ate a tasty picnic lunch packed by Nikki. (Except for the carrots). It was awesome. I couldn't have asked for a better way to get to know each other. From there, the rest is history!