Venue: Washington and Lee Law School

March 11, 2010

H2B and I took a trip down memory lane and revisited the place where we first met.  It’s been less than a year since we left this place, but it felt so weird to be back.  I remember walking to class and seeing couples getting married on the lawn and thinking who the heck would want to have their most special day in the nowhere that is Lexington, Virginia?  Now that those 3 years are behind me, I find myself waxing sentimental and wishing I could go back (for a very short time).  Afterall, it’s the only place where H2B and I share our memories equally.

First a short story of how we first met.  It was the very first day of class my second year.  I was single and not at all hopeful of finding a new beginning since my class was 120ish people and I have ruled out them all.  I was waiting for my friend to arrive at lunchtime in the Briefstop (our tiny cafeteria) and it was only me and a couple of new 1L’s.  I decided to be a friendly upper classman and introduced myself and sat with them at their table.  One of the guys was cute in a scraggly kind of way with hair down past his ears and wearing a loosely tied tie and an untucked shirt a few sizes too big.  A short conversation revealed we have no classes or interests in common.  In fact, after I returned from the restroom, he was already turned away and chatting up some other 1L girl.

This is the Briefstop.

The hallway of tables.

Our table.  I sat on the bottom left chair and he sat opposite me.

A few days later the entire law student body converges at one of two bars in town.  We have a 30 second conversation where he tells me what a good cook he is.  I inform him that I am no good at all and that he must make me dinner one day.  To which he replies “I make a better breakfast” and walks away.  What?  Who says that?

Fast forward a week and I run into him at a cocktail party.  He makes fun of my leopard print shoes (which I still have and love to this day… but haven’t worn again).  I almost didn’t make it to the party due to a killer wasp sting on the ankle.  I introduce him to my friends as a 1L to which he replies “actually I’m a transfer student.”  Interesting, very interesting.  One thing lead to another and he did indeed come over to make me dinner (and not breakfast) shortly thereafter.

Smooth talker?  Perhaps.  Playboy?  I have no doubt that he thought he was.  But he’s in the Army now and lost the hair.  They make him tuck in his shirts and tighen up the ties.  It’s pretty funny to look back and see how much growing up took place (both for him and I) over the past few years.

Anyway, there is a little gated park next to our old apartment where many weddings are held.  Take a look.

Our town.

The school courtyard.

The reading room where we first studied together.  I remember that day because he kept getting suspicious phone calls that he would alternately ignore and dash away to pick up.  Supposedly the ignored ones were from an ex and the picked up ones were from his sister.  He sticks to that story ’til this day.

I am very happy to see the painting I donated to the school still hangs proudly on the first floor.  Though they still haven’t made a plaque with my name in it.

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