I think its about time, internet, to share the story that has become Tim and my life.

To be known henceforth as OUR LIFE.

I know I gave a brief snippet in my “me” page that I met Tim a few months after I graduated from college… but that’s more than a little vague and really doesn’t help anyone, does it?

Well, see, our story began at the grocery store… where everyone who meets…online… falls in love.

Yes, the grocery store. Code word for all dirty and socially awkward explanations, because “grocery store” has such a neutral, unbiased connotation.  Well, except for the screaming toddlers who cannot grasp why every piece of brightly colored candy CANNOT BE ADDED TO THEIR ‘SHOPPER-IN-TRAINING’ CART.

I can just see the thought bubble bouncing around over their miniature heads as they are scolded by their parents:  ”I MEAN, ISN’T THAT WHAT MY CART IS FOR??  TO PUT THINGS IN THAT I WANT?! THAT’S WHAT YOU’RE DOING!”

Anyhow, for some reason, telling someone you met at “the grocery store ” is somehow more acceptable than I “met him online.” The Internet.  CYBER DATING. 

Because somewhere in the logic of one’s brain, it’s more likely that you’ll happen upon your future husband in the ’15 Items or Less’ check-out lane than it is by responding to an email from a COMPLETE AND TOTAL STRANGER.

Exactly.   No difference. 

ODDS ARE EQUAL.

But, that’s how we started.  A single  email. 

From me.

I found his profile on a website that I don’t think even exists anymore…or it got eaten by a bigger one like Match.

Atlanta Singles Internet.

I read his lengthy answers to the questions and decided to say “hi.”

He responded.  Then I responded back. 

And so it went for a few weeks.  We were both open about important things like our love of basketball, the great outdoors and…the 13 year age gap…

Then he asked me out on a date – via email, of course.

The first time I spoke to him over the phone was the evening before the “date.”  He stopped the conversation short, saying he didn’t want to ruin a good thing.  I was a little confused..why STOP a good thing?… But, he WAS older – so maybe he knew something I didn’t.

Our evening was supposed to consist of dinner and a movie but – as these things tend to happen - ended up being two hours at Starbucks, dinner, the movie and then another hour at Waffle House.  We parted ways at around 2am THE NEXT MORNING.

And I was right back over at his house at 10am for breakfast.

That was November of 2004.

My dad freaked out, convinced I was dating a pedophile and my mom was all, “good for you!”

The first time my family met Tim was during my birthday dinner at Macaroni Grill near my parent’s homes.  It was POURING rain and PITCH BLACK outside.  My family and I arrived in a big group and then there’s Tim, all by himself, with a single, red rose and a card.

Begin DINNER FROM HELL –  for Tim.  My mom was stone-faced serious, putting up a massive “DO NOT MESS WITH ME. OR ELSE” front while my dad told tried to be funny.  I will never forget the first words out of her mouth, “Hi. I’m Rachel.” No smile.  Completely monotone.  Then she promptly shook his hand.

My brothers just sat around and watched the spectacle that was “the new boyfriend,” coloring on the paper table cloth with crayons the server left on the table.  Eventually, Tim joined in a game of tic-tac-toe just to give himself a mental break. 

Which, I don’t even think was CLOSE to fair payback for my first visit to Rochester over the Christmas holiday to meet his family.  For DAYS I felt like I was up on the auction block with everyone inspecting me at all hours.  Tim would have CONVERSATIONS with his parents ABOUT ME while I was in the shower and somehow I was lured into a forty-five minute walk with his dad and their dog, Leloo ALL BY MYSELF.

We survived – by nothing short of a miracle – because Tim and I are worse than two stubborn mules fighting for the same patch of grass.

And my mom now calls him her “son.”

But I’ll be just fine if I never have to go through something as uncomfortable and embarrassing as a budding new relationship.

I’d rather be in a room full of spiders crawling all over the place. 

And I don’t do bugs.