we do

“Of all the gin joints, in all the towns, in all the world… he walks into mine” It was a slow night down at the ole Country Club BBQ where I was bartending a Friday night shift. As I looked back into the beer garden, I noticed a tall, dark, handsome man sitting there with a dirty Stark hat on and ringlet curls hanging out the back. I couldn't believe I didn't know every patron in my bar. What a mystery. Who was this man with the curls that Tess Grampp did not know in the Peoria area??? Where did he come from? Wonder what he does for living? Is he new to town? Here for work? SO MANY QUESTIONS filled my head. This mystery man was accompanied by two friends. One sweet and quiet and the other VERY loud and VERY tall. Of course, I had to go run my mouth... find out where they came from. They had decided a change of scenery from Normal, IL would suffice for this specific spring Friday night and into my stomping grounds they came. They spent their night playing darts as I spent mine being a creep trying to talk to him. Struggling to work, flirt, AND do my investigative work on finding out his name.. it didn't take much time. I found out we had 1 mutual friend. If you know me, I definitely wasn't looking for anything at this point in my life. I reached out to our mutual friend to get some "deets" on mystery man, nothing more, nothing less. Darts ended. It was cash out time and onto the next bar for the 3. As I forced them to suck down a party starter with me to keep them at my bar a few more minutes, I realized that this mystery man would barely look at me. No need for talking when you're with a friend like Andrew Gruber who reminded me of myself, to be honest. As I was trying to look MM (Mystery Man) in the eyes, it became awkward. I realized I was flat-out being denied. I couldn't get this man to say a word to me, let alone keep eye contact. I've never acted this way before when it comes to the opposite sex. Typically, I'm less than impressed. Off down Farmington Road, they went. I could not keep myself from thinking about him for the rest of the night. Pathetic, I know. I heard all good things from our mutual contact throughout the night, texting back and forth. Night ended. My parents came over the next morning to help with some house projects. I sat and told my mother the entire story and was thinking I'd never see him again. My phone was on the coffee table, and all of the sudden it dinged from a new text message. It was an unknown number and a picture. I opened the picture to a guy standing in a bathroom, taking a selfie of a 1991 Billy Ray Cyrus mullet. EW, but ok. I could not believe it. Not that our friend had handed out my number, but that the curls were the backstage pass to a horrific MULLET (that I secretly loved). I ate it up anyways. A few texts later and we were set for a date. *cue "Achy Breaky Heart" - B.R.C. A date? Something I don't do. I was informally invited to go to his friend's 30th surprise birthday party which was casually concealed as their ENGAGEMENT party. No way. That's weird. I can't go meet all his friends on our first date, let alone at their surprise/engagement party. So, naturally, I said yes. With some more thoughts from him, he decided we should grab dinner the night before the actual first date to make it less cringey. He picked me up in his silver Ford F-150 the next night, and we headed down to the only restaurant in Peoria that I'd never been to on purpose. The Blue Duck (it's BBQ, my least favorite entree). What I didn't know at the time was it was my last first date I would ever go on. Thank God. I did go to the birthday/engagement party the next night. While we were there, I asked one of those same friends I met the first night who "Albee" was. Everyone kept saying the name. He laughed and informed me it was my date. We've been together ever since.