happy anniversary, baby.

I am the luckiest girl alive.  One year ago today, I met my best friend and man of my dreams.  365 days later, we have yet to kill each other (yet) and actually get a long a majority of the time.  He matches me word for word, punch for punch and has my back, forever.  We are lucky to have each other. 

We went out this weekend uptown to RiRa and up to the lake to the Galway Hooker and had a great time.  The SM was pretty thoroughly sauced, but was all the more fun with his drunken singing and flirtatiousness. 

See all the pictures over in my Flickr sidebar to the right.  We are some classy people.

…but that’s why we’re perfect for each other.  Happy Anniversary and Happy St. Patrick’s Day!

classic post: ashleigh pash.

From the annals of MySpace comes forth the original post that I wrote a few days after meeting my match, my soulmate, my sparring partner and best friend whom you have all come to know and love as my SM.  Enjoy.

This last weekend I was in Cleveland for St. Patrick’s Day. I was supposed to meet up with some dudes who shall remain nameless…but very uncharacteristically and uncool of them, I didn’t hear much in the way of anything from them past a text Friday night. So Saturday, I decided I was not going to be upset, I have nothing to lose here, no one to impress…I’m going to go out and have a BLAST….no dudes, just great girlfriends and beers. We went to the Flat Iron in the flats and this is how it all went down - how I got a new #1 friend on my Friends list:

My dearest colleague Leslie had a sash on that said, “Kiss me I’m Irish”…as we walked into the bar, Todd and his friends were sitting at a table downstairs and his friend Matt said, “Wow, look at miss america over here” (referring to Leslie’s sash) and Todd saw me and said, “Forget her, I have GOT to meet the blonde in the hat.” I didn’t see him then. We went over to the bar and got a beer for everyone and BSed some…then headed upstairs because there was an irish band playing (as well as the OSU/Xavier game - YEAH BUCKS).

About an hour later, Todd and his friends came upstairs…and as they came up the stairs (so he says), I walked by (not looking in his direction) because I HAD to go over and grab Leslie’s ass. He turned to his friends and said, “Now, I REALLY have to meet this chick.” haha.

So they came up and went over to the upstairs bar. We’re all walking around, etc…and we meandered over towards his group of friends and I that’s when noticed him. I got Leslie’s attention and point him out. “Les, look at this guy, he’s so hot…I gotta meet this guy.” He had a green Ireland shirt on over top a white thermal shirt, really cute tore-up jeans and a big Guinness button on his shirt. And great shoes. Leslie yells: “Hey…you stole my button!” And he looks up from his Guinness, like, “who me?” He hands it over. I apologize for my debaucherously wasted friend and he said, that’s ok, what’s your name?

And I knew from right there, it was (as trite as it sounds) love at first sight.

We sat down at a table together, and started talking…and talked from about 3:30 until about 8 pm or so. About everything, ourselves, our families, our past lives, friends, etc., etc. And we were totally sober…we were both our friends’ DDs! (We each had a beer or two, but weren’t impaired). We had so much in common….and of course, because of the date, we had to talk about our heritages….he is half italian, half irish…i am half german, half irish…and we had to do what irish people do on St. Pat’s….I got an amazing kiss.

I got this phone number and email….and as he wrote, I asked him for his last name. He said Pash.

Ashleigh Pash? Really?! I laughed. But strangely, I was good with the way it sounded. We joked about going to the courthouse down the road and making it official.

Everyone who met him that day felt that he was a good guy and came off very sincere and sweet and genuine. It wasnt just me being completely infatuated with a new boy. Everyone could see the goodness he was eminating. It was so comfortable…so easy.

At that point, he and his friends were supposed to get back down to Akron (where he lives) to go the Barley House. He asked us to come. So I gathered up the troops and we headed out. They parked at Tower City, so I stuffed me, Robin and Katie and him and 2 of his friends in my truck and drove them there. And then we got on our way to AK-rowdy. I dropped Katie off at her house and then Robin and I headed to Barley House to dance it up. We had to wait in line to get in and it was FREEZING! But Todd was texting from inside, saying he’d warm me up. haha.

We finally got in, with the help of some people who claimed to be my parents who we chummed up with in line. We found ‘em and hit the dance floor. The music selection was good, but they wouldn’t play a whole song..the DJ kept mixing and mixing…where it was almost annoying, but the company was so good, so I didn’t mind. He dances like a complete rockstar. Totally better than most white dudes. He just kept looking at me and smiling….and we just enjoyed each others company.

Around 1, I realized I needed to get home because I had to drive back to Charlotte the next day…so I told him I needed to go…but I didn’t want to. And he didn’t want me to leave. So he walked us out to the car in the cold…and stopped me before i could get in. He looked me in the eyes and planted the most unbelievable kiss on me. I was floored.

He told me he didn’t want me to think he wanted to just hook up with me…that he thought i was a great girl and just wanted to spend time with me. In my 26 years, I had never heard anything so welcoming. But I told him I had to leave. I had to be a good girl. Gotta leave something to the imagination right?

He asked if I was hungry.

This guy was relentless! I suggested breakfast the next morning. He said, “Absolutely.” My heart melted a little bit.

We decided on 10 am….and Robin and I went home to bed. The next morning, I packed up, hugged my beautiful girls goodbye and headed to Waffle House. When I got there, I saw (for your Royaltonites) Jim Reynolds (Jeff’s big brother) AND Mr. Janicek, the 7th grade math teacher. WTF. haha. Jim left too quickly for me to say hi, but I talked to Mr. J until Todd got there.

We sat there from 10 until noon, talking about everything…past relationships, music, food, you name it. He had this fabulous scruff on his face. I was just blown away. As we sat, enjoying each others company, the most perfect song came on the jukebox… “I Put A Spell On You” by Nina Simone. I looked at him and said, “I like this song.” And he said, “Yeah, it’s pretty appropriate, isn’t it?”

At that point, I realize it’s almost noon and I NEEDED to get back to Charlotte I had about 500 miles to get under my belt. He paid the bill and we went out to my car. It was freezing out and we held each other for a while and started kissing. I started to laugh. He asked me why. I was laughing because we were making out in a ghetto-ass Waffle House parking lot. All class - all the time.

He said, “Well, it’s a fun story, one we can tell our grandbabies.”

This guy is for real?!? He’s not a figment of my imagination?!?

We got in my car because it was too damn cold out (he was shaking) and talked for a little bit longer. Eventually we got a few more kisses out of the way and decided he’d need to come down to Charlotte to visit. He got out and I left. We texted and called each other the whole ride back to Charlotte…and once I got there and ate and got a bath, we talked until 3 am on the phone.

The next morning, I called and woke him to talk on my way to work…I called him at lunch…and until 3 am the next night. I have done the exact same the last 4 days. I can’t talk to him enough.

I am convinced. And he is too. He’s putting up his resume this weekend and beginning to look for jobs. In Charlotte. I’ve never felt this way, and neither has he. We just automatically felt so comfortable with each other and I never want to look back. I know it’s crazy, it’s bizarre, it’s over the top. But no matter what you call it, it’s real.

I think I have thought up the best way to describe it.

It’s like I have loved him my whole life. I just had to meet him to tell him.

the luck of the irish.

I’ll apologize up front for the multitude of St. Patrick’s Day/anniversary related posts.  Just bear with me.

I was sitting here getting all sad and mopey again about not being able to go to Cleveland for St. Patrick’s Day.  I got to thinking about what a fun day it was with my girls and of course, meeting my soulmate.

I just wish we could go up to Cleveland as planned.  All I wanted was to be able to go home, go to the Flat Iron and remember what it felt like the day I met my future, my life.  The day I figured out what love is supposed to feel like.

Ever since then, I haven’t looked back and just keep looking forward.  I forgot what it was like without the SM in my life.  I know that it was just a matter of time until I met the person I was meant to be with forever and just had the opportunity to tell him I loved him.  And I realized something important as I sat here, miserable and shitty at work. 

That day was so special.  With getting up and coming up to Cleveland in the snow with Robin and Katie, rocking out to the newly-released Amy Winehouse album….to pre-gaming at Leslie and Katie’s, to the drive up to downtown from North Royalton, to walking into the Flat Iron like we owned it….to getting that first beer at the bar downstairs and moving upstairs for the Irish band…to going to the bathroom and seeing the man of my dreams come up those stairs…and sealing our fate with our very first kiss:

…no matter what we do, from any anniversary from here on out, there wasn’t a more special perfect day than that day….and there won’t be another until our wedding day or the birth of our children.  I couldn’t have scripted my life anymore favorably or been any happier with that day.  There was nothing like seeing his face and smile for the first time and finally feeling whole. 

So here is to 2008 - Another year, another city, another chance to make memories good enough to tell the grandkids.

self-defeat practice.

So this week, the SM and I decided that it wouldn’t be the best idea to go home fr St. Patrick’s Day, even though it is the one year aniversary of quite possibly the most epic relationship of all time in the history of Planet Earth.  Turns out my job doesn’t give me enough vacation to take to piece together anything resembling a life outside of work.  This is a small example, but I thought I’d use it as a chance to practice my cycle of self-defeat skills. 

1)  Event:  We can’t go home for St. Patrick’s Day.

2)  My emotions (on a 1 to 100 scale):  Anger (80).  Frustration (80).  Self-Pity (50).  Restriction (85).  Spite (85).  Sadness (75).  Deflation (80).  Jealousy of the SM’s vacation time (50).

3)  Self Talk:  I hate my job, I can’t be happy here.  If I can’t get days off I’ll take time off right here at my desk.  I’ll take “sick” days.  Why does the SM get so much more time than me?  This isn’t just for this weekend.  I can never go see MY family because I have to spend half a day flying, half a day flying back…or with the SM’s family we spend 8 hours driving there and 8 hours driving back.  I miss them all.  I haven’t seen my parents in four months.  My boss patronizes me about it.  The bosses take whatever days they want but leave us here in the trenches.  If I want to go to the weddings of my best friends, be able to celebrate birthdays and get home EVER to see my parents, I can’t take days for just me and the SM, or I have to take them without pay.  Its not fair.  Fuck this.  I don’t want to be here.  This job is making me crazy. 

4)  Redesigned Self Talk:  I will be able to see my family when they can come out here; my dad is coming out in a few weeks.  This job is not making me crazy, I am making me crazy.  This is just another step in this process:  I wouldn’t be so worked up about this is I had the rest of my ducks in a row.  I work for a start-up while the SM works for a well-established company, of course they can be more lenient with vacation when they are raking in the millions.  He doesn’t get the personalized attention I do at my job, with small parties and Friday lunches.  I do talk to my parents almost everyday.  Though I miss them, their visits and my visits there do tend to be a little stressful at times so it is nice that we aren’t in each others backyards.  The SM and I will be able to make St. Patrick’s Day special here, regardless of going home or not.  I miss my friends and his family, but it was really going to be about us ceebrating our anniversary.  We can always go to the Flat Iron next time we are up.  My friends will always be around. 

I’m feeling better already.  We can have fun and make new memories here.  Just gotta find all the fun things to do..and do ‘em!