How I met my husband | Existential PTO

Excerpt

It wasn’t love at first sight

(Read in Bob Saget’s voice, please and thank you.)

As a lover of all things TV and cinema, it only felt right to kick off this blog with a proper homage. This one is a salute to the classic How I Met Your Mother. Not just because it fits the story, but because it was the very show my husband watched religiously when he moved to the States to improve his English. Fitting, right? Plus, let’s be honest: I wouldn’t be here writing Existential PTO if it weren’t for the love story that rewrote mine.

So kids… Let’s rewind.

I was one year into my master’s program, living with roommates I loathed, stuck in a relationship that was doing neither parties any favors. The one good thing that came out of that year was meeting someone who quickly felt like my sister. Our relationship brewed faster than instant coffee and we moved in together in 2023. Life was great, we were settling into our new apartment and were super excited to throw a housewarming party… Until, we got a noise complaint.

So here’s the kicker, we were making zero noise. Our daily routine was peak couch potato behavior: watching TV, eating, sleeping, and repeating. The real culprit? Our noisy upstairs neighbor.

The person upstairs sounded like they were training for a marathon in tap shoes while dribbling a metal basketball. As two self proclaimed STEM girls, we assumed that the noise from our upstairs neighbor traveled down to the unit below us. (Just go with it, we’re not really STEM girls.) We were super excited to throw our party but didn’t want to risk getting in trouble with management so we did what logical, mildly irritated women would do: marched upstairs, ready to confront the talented Mr. Noisy. Until the door opened.

A tall man with a kind, innocent face opened the door, nothing like the human jackhammer we imagined. I felt like I was heading over to complain about a vicious, noisy Rottweiler only to find out it's a harmless little Labradoodle. The wholesomeness doesn’t end there: his sweet mother stood behind him, peaking and smiling at us. I think you can guess where this is going. We tucked our tails between our legs, politely told Labradoodle to keep it down and that was that. For the rest of the year, we barely crossed paths. Just a polite nod here, a hallway “hey” there. We pretty much forgot that the other existed for the rest of the time we lived there. Until a random summer day the following year.

Early 2024, I ended my relationship and floated in the waves of singledom. I drowned myself in dates with men who gave me the ick within the first hour, focused on my health and got into every fitness TikTok trend that existed and eventually chose peace and solitude as my vibe.

One fine day, while waiting at a red light on my hot girl walk, I saw Labradoodle. Within two minutes of small talk, he asked me if I like wine, he had a bottle that he wanted to give away. As a chronic party host, I never say no to free booze.

The same night, Labradoodle came down to my apartment to give me a bottle of wine. We stood in the doorway, spoke for 45 mins within which Labradoodle morphed into a German Shepherd as he slyly found out my relationship status and slipped me his number.

The first text I sent led to conversations until four in the morning, hikes every Saturday, Studio Ghibli and Ted Lasso marathons, dinner dates, finding a support system within one another, and eventually, marriage.

And that, kids, is how I met my husband. It wasn’t love at first sight. It was noise complaints, emotional growth, timing, and a bottle of wine.

Just like any great story, it took a few seasons to get to the good part.