Once upon a time, a girl got a job at a restaurant. Despite years of serving experience, she was forced to do the lowly job of bussing tables for a time. The one bright spot in her dreary job was the funny assistant manager. He didn't check her tables at the end of the day to make sure they were wiped clean enough. He didn't pull the chairs out to see if she had missed a crumb. He turned the music on really loud once all the customers were gone for the night, and he challenged the employees to 1980's sitcom and movie quote quizzes.
Soon the man was promoted to manager. He never let it go to his head. He continued to be fun, lenient, and easy to get along with. He made everyone laugh. He had a nice butt. He was great. But he was taken.
After a couple of years, the girl completed her university studies, all except her student teaching. She decided to go abroad and fill that requirement in Fiji. She packed up her things and scoured the phone book for a cheap place to store her stuff while she was gone. She hit on one place; it was several miles outside of town, but it was cheaper than all the rest. She stowed her things, and off she went to the South Pacific.
Four months later, the girl returned. She drove down to the storage unit to pick up her things. She loaded them in the car. Just as she was driving out of the storage place, another car was driving in. She thought she recognized the small, gold Montero as that of her former manager. She slowed down and peered out the window to see. The Montero slowed and a head popped out, looking back at her. It was the manager. So the two got out of their cars to talk. His former relationship was over. He was single. And he just happened to be going out disco skating that night with a couple of other former employees from the restaurant (who, incidentally, he had never hung out with before or since). He asked the girl to accompany him. She agreed.
That night, the girl got to witness her former boss shaking his groove thing in tight brown bell-bottoms with a silky v-neck shirt, buttoned low. It was hot. He was a good skater. She was impressed.
That night they talked at his house long into the night. The next day he called her and they hung out again. They kept on hanging out for several years until, finally, they decided to hang out forever. They took the requisite cheesy pictures, smiling at each other and kissing. And then, eight years ago today, they gathered their closest family into their 108-year old Victorian house's sunny front room, exchanged $20 rings from the silver kiosk at the mall, and vowed to love each other forever.
So far so good. Happy eight years, Sweetie.
