Allie talking about how she met her husband.

Friends and Foes, eh? Boy do I have a story for you! I love writing stories! Then again, that’s what I do. :-) I love telling this story. It’s how I met the hubs. It never ceases to get laughs whenever I tell it.

So I met the hubs about 25 years ago when we both raced jeeps off-road. I fell in love with this one jeep, “Double Trouble.” It was blue and gold and full of awesome. This guy drives by and I swear to God, it’s Randy Johnson (look him up–quite possibly the best pitcher the Seattle Mariners ever had). So me, being the nosy ginger I am, follow the jeep and who do I see there with Randy Johnson? Jay Buhner (another amazing Mariner and one I’ve had a crush on since forever) in all his big, bald, beautiful glory! I’m star struck and hurry up to them to try and impress them with my stellar communication skills when I can’t speak in full sentences. I can’t even form half of one. “I, uh, you’re uh…” Then I stop and really study them both. They aren’t famous Mariners. They just look like them. Boy am I glad I didn’t throw myself at Buhner (that comes later).

I’m trying to play it cool. The bald one is kinda cute so I’m trying to flirt with him. Well, come to find out I really suck and flirting and he’s even worse at picking up on it. My friend comes over and cuddles up with the Randy Johnson imposter. “This is my boyfriend,” she says. Boyfriend? Is she kidding? How did I not know this? I smile at Baldy just as another girl walks up and puts her arms around him. Of course he has a girlfriend. I decide there and then that I hate her. I kinda hate him, too. My friend could have Randy Johnson. He and I would have never worked out anyway. He’s another ginger and the world wasn’t ready for double ginger babies. My bald man and the skank started as potential friends, but now they’re foes in the worst possible way–they’re my foes for no other reason than I didn’t see him first.

That night I’m sulking in the corner at the dance held every Saturday night at the races. My friend drags me out on the dancefloor and gets me dancing, improving my mood. The song ends and I’m off to find another dark corner. “Bad, Bad Leroy Brown” comes on and before I know it, that beautiful bald man we hate (remember, you’re on my side in this story) grabs me and starts dirty dancing with me. Like get a room dirty dancing. The song ends and Mr. Bump & Grind simply walks away, leaving me standing there like Baby after Johnny leaves her on the dancefloor the night she carried the watermelons (if you don’t get the reference, watch the movie). Just like that. I sulk back to my corner and not more than five minutes later, he returns (the bald guy, not Patrick Swayze) and sets a drink down in front of me. “You need to have some fun. Try this.” I have no idea what’s in that drink and I’m not stupid, so I ask what it is. “Whiskey and 7-Up.” I tell him I don’t know if I’d like it. “It’s what I’m drinking. Want a taste?” He then pulls me to my feet and kisses me. He doesn’t just kiss me. He KISSES me. The kind of kiss songs are written about. The kind of kiss an entire genre of stories are based on. Yeah, that kind of kiss. “She’s not my girlfriend. I prefer redheads. See you around.” And then he’s gone. I still didn’t even know his name. I didn’t know anything about him other than he liked to bump and grind to Bad, Bad Leroy Brown and was a seriously good kisser.

And the rest, they say, is history. I eventually got his name. In every sense of the word. :-)

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