As I previously disclosed, I met my husband on Bumble. Yes, Bumble.
This was after my former therapist encouraged me to muscle through heartbreak and try online dating. It was a very interesting time in my life.
I was majorly depressed, barely ate, and cried sporadically– in private and in public. Because of all of this, I was abnormally skinny and had a drier than usual sense of humor.
That is the version of me my now husband inherited.
Nothing about our profiles suggested we would be a match. Truly…
His Bumble profile said something like this: “I love bourbon and craft beer, reading, running, and hanging out with my dog. Professionally, I spend most of my time in Eastern Kentucky defending coal companies.”
My profile said something like this: “I love Jesus, reading, exploring coffee shops, and hiking. Baristas are really nice to me. INFJ. I don’t run, and I don’t like dogs. There, I said it.”
What I did not say: I don’t currently drink alcohol, and I am a liberal woman who isn’t particularly down with defending coal companies. Nevertheless, those things were true, too.
Despite all of this, we matched!
I was skinny and swiped for him, so I was promising enough in his book. He had a job and went to a good school, so he was promising enough in my book. We both liked reading. When you are 28 and 30 that might as well be enough. (Don’t come at me).
As you may know, on Bumble, the girl has to make the first contact.
My opening line: “What do you do when you are not defending coal companies in Eastern Kentucky?”
His response: “When I’m not defending coal companies in Eastern Kentucky, I’m defending coal companies in Western Kentucky.”
Guys, we got married a year and four months later. Life is weird.
After a week or so of periodic messaging, we agreed to meet at a local sports bar, Winchell’s– his choice.
When I walked in he was already seated. To be honest, he looked older than I had anticipated. Internally, I briefly questioned if I had been catfished. I now know I wasn’t– his hair is just prematurely salt-and-pepper. He blames law school.
Before I got around to hello, I said: “I’m new at this online dating thing and I didn’t remember to take a screenshot of your profile to send to my friends. Please don’t murder me.”
I said that.
His response, after a long pause, was: “ok.”
I sat down in my depressed “I barely have the energy to eat anything, so I should probably only put good stuff in me when I do eat” state, and briefly glanced at the menu before asking the waitress what semi-healthy items they had to choose from.
A BLT. That was the healthiest thing on the menu. So that is Winchell’s.
Sean later told me this was the point in which he kicked himself because he thought he had already blown it.
This love connection was clearly off to an amazing start.
Some more highlights from date one:
He passively mentioned his Mother in the past tense, which caused me to latch on and ask if his Mom had died. This turned into me disclosing that my Mom had died as well, and us talking about the untimely deaths of our Moms. Light, right?
I, the girl who was paranoid about being murdered, mentioned I lived very close to where we were. This caused him to ask me the name of my street, as he was in the process of closing on a house in the same neighborhood. Like an admittedly naive noob, I told him.
Later, I proceeded to describe the two houses on either side of me… one was painted neon yellow on only one side and the other had grass up to my knees. He made a point to let me know I had given him enough information to find my house.
It is entirely possible he only proceeded to date and marry me for the sole purpose of saving me from being murdered by less honorable Bumble dates. Or maybe it was because he bought a house in my neighborhood and it was super convenient. Who is to say?
At some point I also mentioned that, while a warm person, I am not a hugger. (I don’t need more opportunities to be awkward, okay?).
After our server asked us if we needed anything approximately three times after Sean had paid the bill, I abruptly got up to leave.
In the parking lot, I realized that while the date had been real awkward (thanks to ME), he was pretty okay. I talked myself into uncharacteristically hugging him so that he would know that I wasn’t not interested.
As he did with the whole “you know, you just told me how to find your house” narration, he commented about how I had hugged him despite saying I’m not a hugger.
So then I reached my upper-limit of awkwardness and probably just ran away or something. I don’t know what I did.
A few days later, we agreed to meet again the following week after Thanksgiving festivities wrapped up. We did not communicate much until the day after Thanksgiving when we both texted each other at the exact same time.
I don’t think it was an instant love connection on either side. Instead, I’m pretty sure we both thought this is kinda weird, but it’s kinda working.
And we are kind of married. (No, but we are actually full on married).
And we are kind of obnoxiously adorable. Evidence: the stories on my personal instagram account. My husband has become a D-list local celebrity and gets recognized as “the boyfriend,” by strangers in Lexington coffee shops. He has admitted that he secretly loves it.
And when you are married and adorable, however obnoxiously, you don’t need to make up a story about how you met.
I am grateful for our awkward little meet-cute.
And I’m even more grateful he kept his promise and did not murder me. At least, not yet…
Oh, what a day.
Just wait until you hear about our next few dates.