With This Ring, I Thee Wed (Mike's View)

By Special Guest-blogger Mike

Since Misty recently blogged about how she and I met from her point of view, (With This Ring, I Thee Wed), I decided to write how we met from my point of view.

Felt Hall, BYU 

The first time I saw Misty was in the parking lot just south of Felt Hall at BYU.  My new girlfriend, Erin, was almost giddy as she introduced me to her little sister, Misty. Besides experiencing the slight guilt of thinking that my girlfriend's little sister was remarkably hot, there was something about Misty that immediately caught my attention; something that I hadn't consciously experienced before. She was visibly unimpressed with me.

Mike-Summer of 1988 (a few weeks before meeting Misty)

Intriguing.   I mean, what was there not to like?

I quickly performed a self-inspection. Ocean Pacific corduroy pants—check. Izod shirt with flipped up collar—check. Worn in Converse Skid-grips—check. Drakkar cologne—check. The beginnings of a pretty decent mullet—check. And yet, inexplicably, it was clear that Misty was not nearly as impressed with me as I was with me. I had even already mentioned that I used to play football. What was wrong with this girl?

Not that it should have mattered to me. I was a big-time college man. I was taking off to live in Spain for a couple years. I wouldn't hold this poor girl’s lack of judgment against her. But in the back of my mind, her obvious lack of interest bugged me!



A couple of years later I was back at BYU and found myself walking down the stairs of the HFAC (oh my gosh--I sound like such a zoobie!) when I nearly ran smack into Misty.

HFAC Staircase

She was a knockout in her Guess jeans and sweatshirt. We smiled at each other and reached out for a friendly, platonic hug. Now (to paraphrase "The Princess Bride'), in the history of mankind there have been several noteworthy hugs: There was Adam and Eve’s first post-expulsion-from-the-garden hug. There was Antony’s embrace of Cleopatra as they strolled the beaches of the Nile. Then there was the pre-Bollywood cuddling between Shah Jahan and Mumtaz Mahal--which lead, of course, to the construction of the Taj Mahal. And finally, there was the devine snuggle-fest between Zeus and Juno on top of Mount Olympus. All of these hugs paled in comparison to my first hug with Misty, on the stairs, in the HFAC. The girl who clearly was not impressed with me two years earlier had given me a hug for the ages.  (Misty has just read this paragraph over my shoulder and is rolling her eyes at me…whatever!)

This picture of Misty was taken within weeks of the "Hug."

Notwithstanding the "Hug," I didn't run into Misty again for nearly four years. I had transferred to the University of Utah and was about to graduate. In fact, I had already finished all of my course work and had no reason to be up on campus. I was supposed to meet another girl at the LDS institute building. I walked into the class—and there she was. No, not the other girl…but Misty, the great huger who didn't like me.

I sat a few desks away from her and gave my peripheral vision a serious workout. Honestly, I didn't know what to do. She had to like me a little--the "Hug" was proof of that. But, I had already been “Dear John’d” by her sister and dumped by her roommate. Could I really stand yet another rejection from the Farley family? Then there was the sticky issue of the other girl, who would be arriving soon.

I quickly performed a self-inspection. Forest green Girbaud jeans with the cool tag in front—check; wannabe grunge flannel shirt—check; Doc Martin shoes—check; Eternity for Men cologne—check. Hair---well, there was nothing I could do about that now.

I decided to go for it.

Looking over at her, I smiled sheepishly and said, “Hey. We should grab a root-beer down at Hires after class so I can hear what’s going on with your … people.” Somehow the absolute confidence I had when I was 18 was nowhere to be found. The other girl, who had come in the back of the room and was now watching me, walked out of the class as I slid into the chair next to Misty.

Misty blushed awkwardly and gave me a resounding and heart-felt, “Uh...why not?”

And that, my friends, was all the encouragement I needed.