Your cute/odd/woo relationship stories

Miscellaneous and Personal Stuff I Must Share
1

I met MrTao online, about a decade ago. For 4 or 5 years, we knew each other through friends and in games we played online. We each had other relationships, and never did anything outside that. At some point we were both single, and flew across the US a few times to visit to see if it stuck in real life. It did.

During that year, I worked for a company that required a password change every two weeks, and the company provided the password for you. One of them stuck out in my mind and was so easy for me to remember that I used it for personal passwords. It wasn’t an easy password, letters and numbers which meant nothing.

After MrTao and I got serious, I noticed 'hey, the letters are “MrTao Loves Tao”. Cute! Even easier to remember.

Then we got married.

About a year after we got married, I realized my now-regularly-used password was “MrTaoLovesTao + our wedding date”. :eek:

That’s my woo. What’s yours? :stuck_out_tongue:

2

This one is only tangentially a relationship story, but I was telling to a group at a dinner party tonight and they seemed to get a kick out of it, so:

I met my wife while I was bartending The Sopranos Emmy party (the party the night before the event) at the home of the show’s executive producer, Brad Grey. I had worked quite a few parties with celebrities attending, but never, ever got tipped by any of them. In their defense, all the drinks are complimentary for catered events like these, so they don’t have the need to pull any money out. Not that that’s necessarily a great defense, IMHO.

Anyhow, as he was leaving the party, Steve Van Zant, who played one of the characters on the show (he’s also a musician held in high regard by some), stuck a $20 bill into my shirt pocket on his way out the door. Very nice and greatly appreciated. So, fast-forward about five years and I’m working the final Sopranos Emmy party at the same place and, sure enough, Van Zant comes to my bar again. I tell him the story and its significance and thank him. So this time on his way out of the party he gives me a $100 bill and hands me a second c-note to give to the other bartender (who was on a break).

Steve Van Zant, you are one good dude. :slight_smile:

(I was later tipped by JJ Walker, Patricia Arquette and somebody else, but I don’t recall whom.)

3

To add to that, at the time I met my wife – her name is Madison – I was trying to get a screenplay to Adam Sandler’s production company.

About six months later, we went to the Sundance Film Festival together and she was insisting on seeing a movie called “Hey Happy.” It sucked and we walked out after about 20 minutes and it became a big joke. Thus, I nicknamed her “Happy.” Didn’t think much of it at the time, but then it occurred to me that my wife’s name became Happy Madison, which is the same name as Sandler’s production company.

To make it even more woo, the date we met was September 9, 2000, which is Sandler’s birthday. And of course, Brad Grey, who hosted the party where we met, used to be Sandler’s manager (Brillstein-Grey Management).

But no luck with the script. A bummer of immense proportion. :frowning:

4

A few days before my husband died he was acting very strange due to ammonia building up in his brain. There was a drug he could take for it but it caused diarrhea. Which he already had for three months straight due to chemo. But he tried one dose. He woke up the next day and his brain was very clear. He read the bottle of medicine and saw that it causes diarrhea. He looked me straight in the eye and said, “Will you still love me if I am a retard.” I said “yes” __ "good, I am not taking this anymore.

one of the tender moments of dying.

5

My husband and I first met when he was 21 and I was 19. We dated for a while, broke up mutually, but still kept in touch once or twice a year, catching up on one another through e-mails. Eventually once or twice a year became almost every day, and then we started dating again.

When we picked back up again, I was in the middle of my 2nd year of law school. He had talked to me about how he’d toyed around with the idea of going to law school, even going so far as to schedule and study for the LSAT, but he decided last minute not to take it. I was at his place one night and saw the LSAT prep books in his bookshelf. I decided to take a trip down memory lane and flip through one…and saw my handwriting. Turns out every LSAT prep book he’d bought at the used bookstore was one that I had sold to them when I had finished the test. Crazy.

6

When my cousin Ray and his wife Liz were still dating they learned their fathers had worked for the same large company for a period. Ray and Liz had grown up in different towns and didn’t meet until they were out of college.

Shortly after they got engaged Liz was going through some of her old family photos and found one taken at an employee picnic the company held when she was about eight years old. It was a group shot with several random employees’ children, including Liz and her brothers.

When my aunt looked at the photo she pointed out the boy sitting next to Liz. It was Ray.

7

The Story of Three Rings (long, drenched in woo and symbolism)

I was rather unhappily married, although still in deep denial about that, when I was accepted into nursing school. As a nursing student, you are not allowed to wear any rings to clinical sites. It’s a handwashing thing. Problem was, I couldn’t get my ring off. I’d put on about 50 pounds since I’d been married, and the thing just wouldn’t budge. None of the usual tricks worked, and I’d been at it for months. It got to the point where it actually hurt, and would cut off the circulation and make my finger numb. Finally I decided I’d just have to get it cut off and then repaired. But I didn’t want to pay someone to cut it off. No problem, I was slated to volunteer at the First Aid shack where I go camping every summer, and I knew one of the paramedics there would have a ring cutter.

He did, indeed. And he cut it off, although it required a little effort, being thick “white gold,” not flexible yellow gold. Finally he looked at me and said, “do you trust me?” and when I said yes, he took his pocketknife and pried the edges apart, drawing a single drop of blood with the tip of the knife on my palm.

Two weeks later, I knew I was going to be spending the rest of my life with that paramedic as another partner. (All of this open and consensual, as my marriage was an open one, by the way).

I went home, trying to figure Stuff out. I was so grateful for his presence in my life that I felt the need to express that gratitude to the Universe. I fashioned a simple ring out of beading wire and white and blue beads and created a little ritual down by the lake and threw the beaded ring into the water.

A week later, the paramedic came to stay with me for a few days while my husband was out of town (again, with my husband’s knowledge and consent, I stress.) I took him to the lovely little beach spot where I’d thrown the symbolic ring in. We spent a wonderful hour or so there. When we walked up the beach back to the car, he stopped, bent over and dug out of the sand…a wedding ring. It fit.

It fit much better than my actual wedding ring, as did the paramedic. About two weeks later, I realized how incompatible my husband was with me, and we decided to divorce. And I remarried a year later, to the paramedic who very innocently cut off my first wedding ring.

8

I lived in the same house in what was a small town from the time I was an infant until I was in high school. My parents sold the place as a commercial property to a couple who opened an antique store. They did very little renovation to the house, using it pretty much “as is”. Over the next few years several businesses cycled through the property, none making major renovations or lasting particularly long. It eventually became a bridal shop. To make a long story short, my wife first tried on her wedding dress in what was my boyhood bedroom.

9

This is so freaking cool!

Regards,
Shodan

10

Reminds me of an anecdote I heard about Frank Sinatra.

Sinatra was supposedly leaving a casino and asked the doorman, “What’s the biggest tip you ever got?” And the doorman said “A hundred dollars.”

Sinatra looked a little surprised by the amount but he pulled out his wallet and gave the doorman two hundred dollars.

Sinatra started to walk away but then he stopped and turned around and asked, “Who gave you the hundred dollar tip?”

The doorman said, “You did, Mr Sinatra, six months ago.”

11

I am loving these stories.

I’ll tell a slightly different one, that has to do with a relative instead of an SO. People seem to like it.

I had just finished my first semester at music school, and I went home to spend the holidays with my parents. For several weeks, I had an idea for a song rolling around in my head. I was curious – could I write a song that was in 3 different time signatures simultaneously? One afternoon I decided to work it out and write down the actual notes. I copied it onto a fresh sheet of manuscript paper and signed it.

But I had no title for it.

Autumn Leaves in Springtime? Nope. Big Purple Riverboat? Naw. Study in Time #1? Lame. It sort of had a blues format. Something Something Blues. Blues Something Something. Gah! Nothing was coming. I set it aside and figured that something would eventually reveal itself.

Late that night, I was in bed and almost asleep. I heard the phone ring. My parents jumped out of bed to answer it. After talking excitedly for about 20 minutes, my mother knocked on my door. She informed me that I had just become an uncle.

I had a title for my song. Blues for Melissa.

Around 10 months later, I put together an small band and we performed a recital. BfM was the featured song. I recorded the recital, so I had a recording of that song.

A few years later, I got a small home recording studio. I was starved for projects, and so recorded BfM. I later recorded my own demented rock versions of some Christmas carols. I released a tape of those carols as gifts to my family members. BfM was on the B side.

A few years after that, I was spending Christmas at my brother’s house. He played the tape. “Melissa, do you know what the name of this song is?” She neither knew nor cared. She was coloring, and couldn’t be bothered with silly grown-up questions.

Last fall, I got an e-mail from my brother. He was wondering if I still had a copy of that song. He wanted to play it at Melissa’s wedding. There was no longer a copy in existance. But I had some new recording equipment, and was happy to record another version. It could be my wedding present to them.

Big mistake. I spent the next two weeks yelling at equipment that I didn’t understand. I spent more time reading user manuals than actually playing. I blew up my laptop. (Thank god for resore points.)

Anyway I got it done and sent it to my brother. He played it at the wedding. My mother cried. My niece and her husband danced.

She later sent me a text thanking me, and saying that she had no idea that that song even existed.

12

We’d always thought Dad’s story about meeting Mum at the dance hall was pretty cool. He saw her, literally across a crowded room, nudged his friend and said, “that’s the girl I’m going to marry.”

It wasn’t till years later that they realised it wasn’t love at first sight; When Mum was 11 years old, her family had migrated from Glasgow. They arrived in Wellington en route to their new home in Kawerau (where they would live for the next five years), they were only there overnight so had a walk around the neighbourhood. A lady called out to them as they passed, saying she recognised their accents, she was also from Glasgow but had been in New Zealand for many years.

Mum was quite curious about the young boy, a couple of years older than she was, who was in the garden with the lady - my dad was home sick from school that day.

13

The running joke with my high school girlfriend was how I was with an older woman, she being nine days older than me.
One day her mother hauled out the obligatory baby photos, a sort of rite of embarrassment for any teenager. The girlfriend was born a bit small, one of a set of triplets. And that was before mothers and newborns were shuffled out of the hospital in 48 hours. They had several newborn pictures taken before the babies ever left the hospital.

So I saw in one picture of the hospital nursery you could see one extra large baby, nearly twice the size of any other in the room, off in a bassinet in the corner, looking so large as to seem like he must have been abandoned. That was me. Latecomer to the party.

14

My husband was born at the hospital where my Daddy worked when he was in the Air Force, several years before he worked there… in Lakenheath, England!

15

Back when I was living in NYC, my boyfriend Kevin had been gone a few hours, doing errands, mostly in the Village. When he came home, he was somewhat upset, saying that he had lost his gloves somewhere. These were expensive Italian gloves that had been a gift, and their loss was extremely upsetting to him. Throughout that evening, his mind never quite left the issue. Next morning, he was still thinking of the gloves, but now he remembered where he had probably lost them. It was a little park near the river, a place where hundreds of people hung out, especially since this was a really beautiful day. He said he was returning to that spot to see if they were still there. I pointed out to him how unlikely that a pair of expensive gloves would still be where he had left them, that they wouldn’t be picked up by someone. Finally, just to shut him up, I joined him to go to the little park in search of his gloves. When we got there . . . lo and behold! . . . there were the gloves, exactly where he had left them. In all that time, nobody had taken them.

And on the way home, Kevin found a $20 bill on the sidewalk.

16

Fourteen years and a divorce apart, I’ve married two guys named Robert, both w/ last names starting w/ a B and 5 letters long, both have 2 siblings; the first husband is 6 years older than me and the second is 6 years younger than me.

17

Small world, huh? Though I swear the room wasn’t pink when I lived there :stuck_out_tongue:

18

Lemme tell you about our first date (my husband and mine’s):

Him: So, what’s your birthday?
Me: XX YY.
Him: Oh. That’s my ex-wife’s birthday. So where are you from?
Me: (US state)
Him: Oh. She was from there too. Where do your parents live?
Me: A tiny little town in (XXX), only three hundred people. It’s called (YYY).
Him: I’m familiar with that town. My ex-wife’s grandparents have a cabin there. I’ve been there many times.

Since then we’ve found out that we were in several different places at the same time (without knowing it of course).

Also we both have grandparents who were small-time farmers, woodworkers on the side, with impressive junk barns, less than a hundred miles apart.

At least his birthday isn’t one of the two birth dates shared by my previous five relationships/FWBs.

19

I’m curious: did she choose that bridal shop because you suggested it (because it was your home) or did she choose it completely coincidentally?

20

She knew I had lived there growing up, but looked at many other dresses/shops first. It was coincidence that she found her dress there and that the fitting room was my former bedroom.