She’s a painter, I’m a comedian. It makes sense then, where we met: at a comedy show taking place inside an art gallery. I was onstage, telling jokes. She was off somewhere else in the gallery, creating another masterpiece. There were maybe three people in the crowd. I was bombing. In fairness to the circumstance, that makes sense, doesn’t it? It’s an art gallery, not a comedy club. You don’t walk into the Comedy Cellar holding a Picasso and expect everyone to drop everything to oogle at it. Seeing fellow creatives in need, she pulled up a chair and supported the show. She had (and has) a great laugh. The type comedians talk about years after hearing it. That laugh saved the show. Afterwards I ran into her in the parking lot. “Ran into” is generous - it was as planned a “run into” as run intos can be. I wanted to ask her out, but I didn’t know how to start the conversation. I asked her for directions to the highway. “Not the finest icebreaker,” you’re thinking. Yeah well, this is the "How We Met" section on our wedding site, so I'd say it worked like a charm. Shortly after she began giving directions in earnest, I told her I was just using that as an excuse to talk to her and asked her to go to the most romantic place I could think of: the Applebee’s ten minutes down the street. (Don’t ever let her convince you I’m not a big spender. That night we had TWO entrees for $20. No expense spared, baby.) Our next date - what I like to call our “second first date” - was a movie. From there, we started seeing a few movies a month. Now we see at least one a week, sometimes two. We see so many that the lady who works behind the counter at the theater in our neighborhood has our order memorized. Just last week she told us we go to the movies too much. Mostly, I like seeing the bad ones with her because then we just make fun of the movie. And I can hear that laugh. The same laugh that saved me when I was bombing at the gallery.