Our Love Story, Part 1
Today’s the exact date we actually hung out for the first time. We knew each other’s faces but never actually met. He worked the door, and I worked the bar. It’s our love story, and I’ve never actually written it down, but replayed it hundreds of times in my mind. If it were a movie, it would be my favorite.
This love story starts out in a night club in Orlando, Florida, called Roxy. Justin and Britney has just broken up, and Justin and his crew frequently made appearances in this club. The fashion of the early 2000’s was in full effect. From butterfly mini clips and silver lipstick, to mini crop tops and low rise flare jeans, I rocked it all, but put my own all black or all white spin on it, and my celeb crush, Justin Timberlake, was the only look I’d go for when it came to dating.
My plans were to get a job for a few months to save up, and move to L.A. to be an actress. You know that great feeling of not needing or even wanting a boyfriend? Yeah, that’s where I was in my mind, and it felt so good. If a guy even looked my way, I knew he liked me, but they’d have to get in line, or take a number.
This club, Roxy, we worked in, had twelve bars, six upstairs and 6 downstairs. There were a few door guys, or “bouncers” that worked the door each night, and there two bartenders to each bar, a pretty large club. It was like showtime every time I worked. You had to be “on”, dressed up, flirting with customers, pouring drinks and taking cash or cards. Guess how much I knew about how to make drinks…zero, zip, zilch, nada. Guys would come up to me and ask for a kamikaze, or a hurricane, or a chocolate cake shot, and I would mix liquor together hoping they would just roll with it…and yay, they did! The less I knew about a drink, the cuter they thought I was and the more cash they would tip. This was a great gig for my big plans.
Each night, before the club opened I was in charge of finding bar candles and lighters. One night, when I couldn’t find them, I asked a bar manager, who’s name I didn’t know, and didn’t care to know (because all I cared about were my big plans) where I might find the candles, and noticed he seemed so intense, like, lighten up dude! His name was Marc, and my first words to him were, “You need to smile more.”, in my charming, sweet, southern, flirty way, of course.
That night, was Saturday, April 18th, 2002. We started our shift at 7pm, and ended it at 3am. Marc came up to my bar that night and started talking to me with some other managers. He decided to ask for a Grey Goose Orange on the rocks, so I made him Grey Goose with orange juice and ice. He looked at it like, what is this? I said, “Just what you asked for, Grey Goose Orange, on the rocks, that’s $9”. He didn’t know what to say, and comped it.
Later that night, once the club was full and the music was blaring, Marc came back to my bar, and we started talking. He told me about how he had been away for a few weeks after spraining his finger breaking up a club fight, and that was the reason for his beard. Remember, beards weren’t the thing for twenty something’s, and if you didn’t have a baby face like Justin, it wasn’t happening. After telling me a little about his ex girlfriend, I realized he had a kind demeanor, and wasn’t as intense, once he opened up.
Around three a.m., it was closing time, and I was heading home. Marc called me, asking me to hang out at his place. The first thing I thought was, “Is this guy crazy?! He thinks I’m like that?” At first I said no, then he persisted by asking what I would need if I came over. For some reason I said a toothbrush. A toothbrush? He said ok, and that sealed the deal. I was on my way.
As soon as I pulled up to his apartment, in Winter Park, which is the ritziest part of Orlando, I thought to myself, that’s it, I’m dead, kidnapped, etc. He was waiting outside of his Melrose Place looking apartment complex, and I went with my gut, and we stayed up talking for hours and hours. One of the things he said to me, after I told him my big plans to move to L.A., was that you can do whatever you want wherever you are, it doesn’t have to be in another place for you to do it, or be successful at it. He showed me modeling pictures of himself, and all that he a had accomplished in Miami as a model. He even modeled in YM magazine, which was very impressive to me. He let me sleep in his bed, and he slept on the couch, such a gentleman. We walked to brunch the next morning, and on Sunday, he asked me out on a proper date set for Monday.
Did you keep a journal when you were 20 or 21? I did, and I had written in one since I was 13. Over the years from 13 to 21, I wrote down all my thoughts and feelings, things that happened that were a big deal to me with boyfriends, friends, and often what I wanted in the future. When I moved to Orlando at 19, from Panama City, Florida, I started writing more. Cutting pictures out of magazines of what I wanted, a mini vision board, and taping them in my journal, I was manifesting all of my dreams. I found a picture of a young guy in a magazine, with all the features I was attracted to. Blue eyes, dark brown hair, and those model good looks. Also, I wrote about who he was on the inside. My list was long, and detailed, and I wrote this when I was about 19, or 20. I also wrote this: The guy that brings Iris flowers on our first date, is the guy I’m going to marry.
Two days after our first hang out, it was time for our first date. He called me Sunday to make sure he could pick me up on Monday around 7pm for dinner. As I was getting ready, I looked out my window downstairs, and could see him walking up to the door, with purple flowers, Iris flowers. My mind flashed back to the year before when I wrote it down. It was God, telling me that this is him. I couldn’t believe it and no, I didn’t tell him on the date, I waited a few years for that.
We went to a huge restaurant in Orlando Universal City Walk, a Wolfgang Puck restaurant. Marc led me up to an empty bar, very far down from the bartender, and after he asked me what I’d like to drink, he started to sweat a little. At first, I didn’t understand why he was so far away, and then it hit me, this guy doesn’t do this often! Oh my gosh! How sweet and refreshing! He’s not a player! Only a player would walk right up to a bartender and order the right drink for the girl with all the confidence in the world! Hallelujah! He’s a keeper! I had dated my fair share of players, and could spot one a mile away. We got our drinks, sat down at our table, ordered dinner, talked and talked, and when we were outside, I realized this guy is not going to kiss me, even though he wants to, I’m going to have to kiss him, and I did. Fireworks went off, in our heads.
We continued to hang out, go on dinner dates, and see each other at Roxy after 8pm, when work started. It was secret that we were dating, which made it so much fun. His football number from high school, was 33, so I found a small iron on and wore it on my school girl bartender outfit that first week after our first kiss. He saw it, and his eyes, that reaction, so cute. Keeping it secret, but teasing him at work with those little gestures and hints for all to see was such a fun time. He would get a rose for me from rose ladies out front, and bring it to my bar, and then he would walk around the club acting goofy, goofy and in love.
Needless to say, my plans to move to L.A. were on pause, because, hello, I was in love. We talked, and waited, but decided to move together to L.A. the next year. Both of our parents supported our decision to move and go after our dreams.
The following April, Marc drove to L.A. with his Dad, while I waited at home to hear he had found an apartment. Then it was my turn, I said bye to my mom and sisters, and hoped on a plane to live the life of my dreams, with the man I knew I would be with forever, after all, I had manifested it in my journal all these years. It was destiny.
We have been together since today, 2002, living the life of our dreams, and manifesting new ones everyday. If you read this, it’s part one of our love story. Stay tuned for part two, on April 23rd, our wedding anniversary.
If you read our love story, drop a comment below, I’d love to hear from you!
Xx,
Iris