Four years ago today, I walked into a disgusting frat house with my best friend in a blue shiny toga made from fabric bought at Wal-Mart to celebrate the end of Greek Week. Over in the corner of the basement was the fraternity president, wearing a gold toga and playing beer pong. He was the same guy who had played the guitar and sung one of my favorite songs at the Greek God competition the night before (I am a sucker for guys who can sing and play the guitar). We started talking and discovered we grew up only a few miles away from each other and had some similar friends. Even though he was the cool and cocky Phi Sigma Kappa president, I could also see a sweet side.
We hung out for the rest of the night and he even convinced me to do my first beer bong (oh so romantic). At the end of the evening, he was my knight in shining armor when he rescued my North Face fleece from where it was wedged under two extremely intoxicated people who were in quite the compromising position on the nasty basement couch (one of these people eventually sold Adam and I our wedding bands).
Since then, we have talked everyday and he has become my boyfriend, my best friend, my fiancé and now my husband.
We hung out for the rest of the night and he even convinced me to do my first beer bong (oh so romantic). At the end of the evening, he was my knight in shining armor when he rescued my North Face fleece from where it was wedged under two extremely intoxicated people who were in quite the compromising position on the nasty basement couch (one of these people eventually sold Adam and I our wedding bands).
Since then, we have talked everyday and he has become my boyfriend, my best friend, my fiancé and now my husband.
Thank goodness for Greek Week toga parties!
No comments:
Post a Comment