Some of you may have heard this story before, but you might have only heard one side. Here’s the night we met from both of our perspectives.

You couldn’t ask for a better start to the night — dinner with the lacrosse parents. These meals always start with “nice to see you all, I’ll just have one drink and be on my way” and end with “so are we getting bottles”? This was no exception, and the sons left 6 Feet Under Bar and Grill 6 feet under. Needing a breather and a chance to slow down and regroup, we took the left-right express to Atlanta’s best beer bar, Ormsby’s. In 10 minutes or 10 seconds, our IDs were back in our pockets, our wrists were stamped with a big O, and we were safe in the dim Ormsby’s lights, shoulder to shoulder at the bar, flashing cards for first round. It was late summer, and we had all been out of school for a year at least, so a pure lacrosse meetup was a rare event. We had a lot of catching up to do. It was unspoken that this was a boys night. After a too quick first round upstairs, we descended further into the all wood bunker that is Ormsby’s. Somehow this was even more packed. Single file, we split, swim, and roll dodged diners, game players, and other NARPs in a beeline to the bar. Not loving my first beer and feeling a little discerning, I skipped out on the round and grabbed the Big Book of Beer off the bar and took few steps back to do some light reading. “Winter’s Howl IPA - 8.8%” “Big Easy Winter Ale - 6.4%” “Ur Gonna Haze This Hazy DIPA - 9.2%” Ugh “Miller High Life - 4.2%” Perfect. What should have been a 30 second scan had turned into a few minute exegesis, and the line had grown by about 3 girls. The opening at the bar could really only support a single person hamburger style, but the first two girls went hotdog style and just squeezed into the space. This left my future wife and I rounding out the line. They say your life boils down to a just a handful of decisions. A few fleeting moments. The rest is noise. Simple yes/no. Go/no go. Do or die. One shot, one opportunity. A boys night. A girl twiddling on her phone, unable to squeeze in at the bar. A Big Book of Beer. All you have to do is turn and ask “What beer should I get” <End act one>

It was the beginning of the fall semester of my fifth year at Georgia Tech. For those who don't know, five years at Tech is NORMAL, OK?? It was the Friday of what's called 'Wet Weekend' at Georgia Tech, meaning that fraternities are allowed to have parties again after being 'dry' during the week of Panhellenic recruitment. I had been stood up on a date—should've known, it WAS Wet Friday after all—so my friends and I decided to go to our favorite local bar, Ormsby's, for a girls' night. We were out to have fun night together, just us girls, without any men. I was in line for the bar behind my two girlfriends when I heard a somewhat sheepish "What beer should I get?" I, the male species #1 hater, replied to the stranger who is now my fiancé, "I don't know, I don't drink beer," without even a glance. But he didn't back down easily! He persisted and asked, "Well then, what DO you drink?" I was more thrown off than I should've been by this obvious follow-up question and, if you know me, you know why. My drink of choice isn't something cool or interesting or mysterious or even basic. It's a vodka diet coke. I decided to give in because, at this point, I realized he was kinda cute and he was trying. So, instead of lying and trying to sound cool, I just told him. To which he said, "That sounds disgusting," and continued to tease and banter with me until we got our drinks. I let him taste mine and he admitted it was "not that bad,". I hit him with a "This has been fun, but I'm going to go back to my friends now," holding back a smile. I went back to my girlfriends and pointed out the guy who had just hit on me at the bar. We instantly forgot our no-men pact (at the end of the day, we are JUST girls). They hyped me up and gave me the confidence to make the final move before we left. As we were leaving for a crazy/classic night of karaoke, I walked up to Sam and said, "We're going to Dark Horse, you guys should come." I gave him my number so he could text me, but despite my constant phone-checking on the dance floor, no text ever came. [[ If you ask Sam, HE asked for my number and begged his friends to go to Dark Horse. He even offered to buy everyone's Ubers, but I guess Dark Horse really just wasn't the move. ]] The next day, I was on campus for Wet Saturday with my friends (we know we were too old for this). I ran into a friend who said, "Oh my gosh, a little birdy told me you gave out your number last night!" How did that random guy at Ormsby's know my friend, and why did he share this information so quickly when he wasn't even enthused enough about getting my number to actually use it!? Turns out her now-husband and my soon-to-be are close friends. Close enough to take the advice of his future-groomsman's future-wife to "wait until Sunday at 1 pm to text me". Something about me being busy at Wet Weekend and him seeming too eager! So, Sunday at 1pm comes around. I'm sitting on the couch with my best friends (the same two that were standing in line with me at Ormsby's and will be standing next to me at the altar on 2/15). We're watching Jersey Shore or The Kardashians or something equally as terrible, nursing our hangovers. I run to the restroom quickly during a commercial break, and within seconds, the girls hear "AAAAAHHHH!!!!!!!" to which they run into the bathroom screaming, "WHAT DID HE SAY?!?!?"